A Better World
by Ink Ribbon
Summary: "A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they shall never sit," his grandfather had once told Rick, and now he was going to do it. He was going to build a better world, for all of them. For his family. [Continuation to Adaptation; Rick Grimes/Amanda Shepherd pairing, minor character in the canon, mostly OC now]
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: _

_Edit: _**Hey. Just put up a poll on my profile. If you're interested which story you'd like me to write after A Better World, please vote! Thanks.**

_Hello, thanks for clicking my new story, the continuation of Adaptation. Adaptation took place between S05E02 and Season 6's mid finale, and this's the rest of the Season 6. If you're a new reader, I suggest to read the other story first, to understand better. Basically, this is a romance and adventure story, based on Rick, following loosely the canon. For example, they will meet with Negan at some point in the story, too, but it won't be how it happened at the show. Besides, we have Beth alive-and married with Daryl (Adaptation had started as a Beth and Daryl story-later it turned to something else) so things have changed. I have no Morgan here, and Dwight and Cherry came to Alexandria at the end because of Beth. It's all mentioned in the narrative, so, no worries._

_The pairing of the story is Rick and Amanda Shepherd from the Grady Hospital, and in Adaptation they got married-so Rick is a married man again. Amanda isn't an original character, a very minor character from the canon, but because I built all of her background myself, basing her around a little bit interaction she got at Coda with Rick, I decided to rank her as OC at the tags. I think it works better for the audience that would want to read a Rick/OC story._

_So enjoy! (I'm starting with a bang!)_

I.

Entwined, their bodies were like a tangled ball of yarn as they talked to each other with a language spoken in sweat, skin and need.

With his each thrust, Amanda came closer to the edge, literally and figuratively, her body gliding toward the edge of the bed an inch and an inch with the force of his momentum, her back arching to meet up with his pace as her hands clawed at his upper arms for support, gnawing at his shoulder to muffle her guttural moans as she rode on her climax together with him.

As they neared to the edge further, she let herself more to him, her head titling back, her moans starting echoing in the room louder. Rick bowed and kissed her lips to silence her… Sex was always natural with them, an effortless rhythm, but always intimate—a dance of two on love, desire, and passion, the world shrinking inside them, creating a bubble consisting only two of them—outside the monsters were still there but here they were safe—together—at their home—His family—his wife…in his arms—where she belonged… He'd put it back together—He'd kept his promise…

Rick thrust in her wilder and raising herself back, her hands found his shoulders again to hold on him—because she needed him—begging him with her body even though she stayed silent—low broken screams falling out of her despite her best efforts to keep quiet, her lips trailing over his skin…writhing between his arms. Pulling her closer, Rick quickened his pace—his blood running high and hot, something in his stomach coiling as she started constricted, cramped around him inside—so tight—so wet—then she froze—her whole body constringed, clinging on him like her life depending on it, and she bit him as he stopped breathing, the bubble froze in a moment too—then it shattered.

Trembling, she slumped back at the bed, her head slightly falling over the edge, and Rick followed her, on top of her. They lay there motionlessly, trying to catch their breaths as the world sat back on its axis after the bubble exploded, her legs and arms still loosely wrapped around him. Amanda liked them stay like that after sex, tangled on sweaty skin, his weight crushing on her. She never let him go—so each night they stayed like that…until his hand reached out and found the pillow.

So, Rick waited until his breath evened out, then rolled off her and reached out to find his pillow. Wordlessly, he took it and nudged at her side lightly. Staring at above, still breathing laboriously in silence, Amanda titled her hips back and let him put it under her ass.

She stayed like that for ten minutes, since the first time they'd tried to get her pregnant again, since Denise had cleared her off for the intercourse again—almost two months now—she stayed with a pillow tucked under her ass, waiting as he threw his arm across her stomach loosely, watching her as she stared at the ceiling.

When he counted ten minutes inside, Rick took it back and threw it up backward and taking her in his arms, he moved them up back at the pillows, settling her back against his chest as they lay on their side—his arm across her torso, his leg slightly over hers. They snuggled each other as Rick took the blankets, and threw them over their naked bodies. The weather was getting colder—and the heating systems weren't working but Rick didn't mind; he liked sleeping like this—warm with body temperature—keeping her warm, safe and secure…

Keeping his family warm, safe and secure… They were safe now, he told himself—they were safe—behind the walls in their home—safe and together, like he'd always wanted. He'd put it back together. He'd kept his promise. They were at the living part now, just like Amanda had wanted—needed—It wasn't just surviving anymore. They were building a better world. Together. All of them. For Carl, for Judith, for…their not yet conceived baby. He wasn't only good for killing... He closed his eyes, breathing out deeply, and almost went to sleep just before from the next room, Judith started crying.

Amanda jolted back from the bed—alarmed, her winded down state vaporizing at Judith's cries and, quickly grabbing her robe from the floor, she ran out of the room for the next door before Rick could even open his mouth.

# # #

"I got one rule," Rick told the crowd, much like he'd told Deanne Monroe before, and it felt somewhat ironic now repeating that same words sitting in her hall—living in her house, in _the_ house, but that was always the way of the things were, even before the turn; one fell and another stepped in_, _"We don't bury _killers_ inside these walls."

That part hadn't changed yet, not as long as he lived, "If you kill someone, if you hurt someone, if you cause this community into jeopardy, you die," he continued, "It's that simple."

Much to his enjoyment, almost every head in the room nodded, almost everyone lived in the town. They all had suffered the consequences, Rick didn't need to remind them anymore what they were up against with, perhaps that had been the only good thing their ordeal with walkers and Wolves had gained them. Alexandria had learned how it was being outside, they'd learned with blood, sweat, and tears, fighting for their home. All their pain was going to be worth something.

A better world.

And it was the heart of their new world—something that would always bind them together—drew who they were—what they were—what they were going to be, and what not.

A constitution.

_You can't build civilization without a constitution,_ Deanne had said, and Rick finally agreed. They needed something—something they could always look up—something that would be above them—law. A man simply couldn't do that.

Sometimes Rick felt he had to be more than a man—but he couldn't be, he'd learned it, too—if he put himself in the heart of it, if he made himself the law—_the_ _word_—then he was going to be the only thing he'd been trying not to be. A tyrant.

Next to his left side, sitting at the couch, Father Gabriel hadn't nodded, but instead had started shaking his head, "If you cause this community into a jeopardy _willingly_," he corrected, "We must consider the unwilling part," he continued, and the priests' eyes found him, "Sometimes we all make stupid mistakes."

_What if we make a mistake? You kill us, too? _Rick recalled the teenage boy asking him, now _dead_. He shook his head, "We don't have the luxury of being stupid anymore. If we're stupid, we're dead."

At his words, everyone in the room tensed, he could see it from the clenched jaws and narrowed eyes, but it was also a simple truth they had to accept. He didn't want to be this…matter of fact, but that was the way of the things now, too. When one of them slipped, all of them paid for the mistake.

Twenty-three people—they'd lost twenty-three people in the attacks, a quarter of Alexandria's populace, killed brutally or ripped apart, eaten alive—and one of them had been Reg Monroe, the man Rick needed the most.

Walls… His eyes briefly skipped outside the windows, the heaps of stones, amassed like small hills outside the wall. They'd managed to bring back stones from the empty quarry. It'd taken more than he'd assumed arranging the logistics and work in the quarry, digging and cutting, but the fuel tank Daryl and Beth had found had come very handy.

But their job hadn't finished yet. No. This was only the beginning.

Life had been…busy at Alexandria since Rick had stood under the colored panel at the church almost two months ago now, giving a speech at Deanne's eulogy, making another promise.

A better world.

There was so much things to do, and so little time.

There was always so little time.

Making a constitution was always a must, but they'd other priorities first. The pantry was still half empty—more than half now as finding supplies became harder and harder each passing day as the time neared to the winter. The weather was getting colder, a hard fact that they all felt deep into their bones now. Even inside the houses they'd started sitting with their jackets, and Rick had changed to his fur collared thick jacket a month ago. During the attacks, half of the solar panels had been destroyed by Molotov cocktails, and they hadn't been still able to repair them, so heating systems were offline. The energy was going to be another problem. Soon, they were going to pool in the houses, cutting the expenses, they were scattered around in too many houses now, living separately, but he wasn't sure how the townspeople might feel about that. Maybe they could find more supplies or something to repair the panels closer to the capital, up in the north, where Daryl and Beth had found Patty and their first and the last recruits, or maybe that colony Dwight's wife had mentioned but Rick wouldn't really know. Because he wasn't taking any chances.

Not any-fucking-more.

But he was trying—following Deanne's footsteps, studying her plans—discussing them with Amanda and with others—discussing how they could manage to put up the walls he wanted, managed to create the soil for farming, and that mill—that damn mill! One day they were going to have to go out and find that Smithsonian Museum Reg had mentioned before. They needed books more than anytime now—they needed to draw plans and mechanics, but there was still time for that, they weren't still ready. Abraham and Rosita were still trying put the rest of Alexandria into the shape before they formed a sort of Militia before they started venturing out. He couldn't take any chances. Not anymore.

Not when he knew there was a community out there up in the north with a much larger numbers than them, having battle hardened fighters and guns. No way.

"We're thinking sentimental," Amanda's placid voice cut in the sudden silence inside the room, interrupting his musings as well, "Law is technical, it's about reason and sense, not sentiment. A friend of mine once said, if you punish a rapist and a killer at the same way, all you're gonna have is _dead_ raped girls." She let out a sigh and turned to him, "They're right. There has to be a difference between a stupid mistake and a willing act."

Rick scowled, "And who's gonna decide what's what?" he asked back.

"We're gonna set up a jury," she announced, turning her eyes back to the audience in the room, "their cases will be heard by it, then it's gonna be decided what's what," she explained further, "Deanne said we can't be the jury, the judge, and the executioner at the same time—and she _was_ right."

"We both will be in it," Rick said in return as his wife nodded back.

"Of course." Her eyes wandered around them again, and she smiled, "I'm sure no one would argue against that."

All of them stayed in silence. "So…what happens after then?" Rick then asked, "What will we do if we decide it was just a stupid mistake." He looked at them, "You know we can't send people out there to exile."

Again, silence was his answer. Inwardly, he nodded at himself. He wished it could've been other ways—but this was the real world. He was putting it back together, he was, but the world they lived couldn't tolerate any mistakes, stupid or not.

"We build a prison," Amanda answered again, "Keep them—alive—and hear them after a while on parole too—I don't know—we need to consider it more thoroughly, but we could do it, can keep a few people…barely alive if they decide to play the hard ball—" She paused, "But—if we see we can't—our resources starts dwindling for some reason or another and it becomes them versus us—then we vote for the death penalty."

Rick nodded again, and Amanda stood up, "All right then, I think that's enough for today," she said, "We can talk about the details later. I assume we don't need everyone here anymore?" she asked, looking at them, giving them searching looks, and Rick wasn't surprised to see that most of the people just nodded too.

Most of the people just wanted to live, simply live—not being responsible who deserved to live, and who didn't, but they had to decide it now—they had to. Rick really wished for the times they hadn't needed to, either, but those days were long gone now.

But they were trying… He was trying. He was putting it back together. He'd put it back together. His family—his eyes found Amanda again as others left the room, and they were alone once again in their own hall. In _their_ home.

He was keeping his promise. They were getting to the living part. Together. All of them.

And soon they were going to have another baby—they were working on it—_each night._

She had her period the last month. Rick had been afraid for another—breakdown when she saw herself bleeding again right in the bed, but the doctor had said it was a good sign, assuring her if she could menstruate on time, things _might_ be good with her. That might part was still bothering her, Rick knew, but Amanda hadn't said anything. Denise had offered then giving her Atarax again, telling her it would relax her, but Amanda only gave her a look, not dignifying it with an answer, asked instead if tucking a pillow under her hips after the intercourse might help her chances with the pregnancy. Rick had been insisting on it, but Amanda had started having other opinions, he knew… In return Denise gave her such a look for a moment Rick had just wanted to break something, "Wouldn't hurt your chances," the doctor had only said back.

Even _then_ each night she let him tuck the pillow under her ass. Sometimes he felt the rage and guilt so stark—he really wanted to break something. It _wasn't_ his fault, but it was his responsibility, _she_ was his wife—and he'd failed her—couldn't protect her…

"Rick—" she called out on him at the other side of the spacious hall, rolling her eyes, "Don't scowl this much," she said, "You'll get wrinkles."

Rick let out a low grunt. She walked to him as he turned to the window and watched the streets—the home they were building—together. She stopped next to him. "It went well," she told him, "They didn't oppose much—" She paused, "_You_ didn't oppose much."

He made another huff out of his nose then tilted his head down to look at her, "That friend of yours?" Rick asked back, "Was it him?"

Startled, she looked up at him, "What?"

"The friend you were quoting—was he a _lawyer_?"

She smiled, catching up with him, and let out a laugh, a very satisfied, _pleased_ laugh and twisting aside, she wrapped her arms around his neck, "Rick Grimes, are you jealous of my possibly dead now once boyfriend?"

He gave her a look. "I thought you weren't dating—"

"You know what I mean—"

"I _know_—" he said, and paused, and admitted, "I didn't like it."

She laughed more, "Now you know how I feel…"

He let out another grunt. She laughed even harder in return, and slipping out of his arms, he stepped back at his side again, and rested her head on his shoulder, watching the streets outside.

"Judith—" she then started, "She's getting…edgy."

"Maybe we could give her Atarax…" Rick muttered.

Turning aside, Amanda fixed at him a look. "I'm being serious, Rick. She's too young," she said, "We should wait a bit longer."

Rick shook his head. "Amanda, we talked about it before." They'd already had this discussion—many times. After they'd gotten their own house, Rick had wanted Judith to stop sleeping with them in the same room. It was about the time. The baby girl needed to learn to be safely away from her parents, or else she could want to sleep with them always. He'd made that mistake with Carl before with Lori, had kept his son sleeping with them more than they should've then separating their room had been like hell.

They also needed to have some privacy, a husband and wife needed their own time—time for share and enjoy each other's company. Judith was having it hard. She'd gotten too much accustomed being with them—especially after the prison fell, and they'd been at the road most of the times until they had found Alexandria. Or more reasons why she had to be in her own room, but Rick hadn't expected Amanda having it this hard, as well. Each night, she slept on pins and needles, jolting up from the bed as soon as she heard her crying—sometimes even hearing things—leaving the bed for a couple of times in the night to check her out—most of the times waking the baby in the meanwhile, then brought her back to the bed.

Rick understood—it was hard for her—losing their baby, and what had happened afterward, how much she'd sacrificed to keep Judith and Carl safe—but she had to cool down. If she kept like this, Judith was going to sleep with them until she was…like ten.

"She's almost twelve months now, Amanda," Rick continued, taking a step further toward her, "You _know_ we have to start now."

But Amanda shook her head back at him, "Every child is different. Judith's been through too much. She needs us, needs to feel safe."

"She's safe," he said automatically. They were all safe here, he was keeping them safe. His family was safe in their home. "We can't keep her with us always. She has to learn to how to be alone and we need to have a bit privacy, too—"

"What?" she exclaimed out, cutting him off, her eyes widening, "You're _sending_ my baby away because you want to fuck me better?!" she spat at him, her widened eyes now furious, "Are you kidding me?"

"Amanda," his voice raised too, "don't be ridiculous. And _stop_ twisting my words." Why, _why_ she still had to twist his words, taking them in the ways he didn't meant to. How many fucking times they'd had this fight now?

"I'm not twisting your words—" she hissed, "You just told me we needed to have a bit privacy. What do you plan to do with your privacy, Rick?" she asked, rising her eyebrow, "Want us to discuss politics?"

"Wives and husbands are supposed to do other things than just having sex—" he snapped her back, "Talk—share things—"

"Oh, _come on,_" she exclaimed out again, "You _hate_ talking."

He shook his head, "You're impossible—"

She glared at him further, "You want to have a talk, share things—then have a _talk_ with Carl. He's started sleeping with Enid. So, you'd better go and make sure he knows about the birds and the bees before you find yourself with a grandchild—"

"What?!"

"Yeah—go find condoms before they do something stupid," she shot back before she walked away.

# # #

Grumbling under her breath, Amanda went to Judith's room. Her baby was sleeping when the meeting had started, but soon she must get up, Judith had taken it after his rather annoying father, she never slept much, so Amanda wasn't surprised to see her standing up in the cot—holding the railings.

Alone.

She frowned. Carl was supposed to have the baby monitor, looking after her—but Enid had come before the meeting had started…

Amanda let out a sigh. Rick really needed to have that talk with them. Amanda had gotten suspicious of them a week ago after seeing Enid leaving his room, her hair wild, her clothes disarrayed—having that look over her face... Amanda got it at the first sight, and had hid behind the corner not to embarrass them. She had no idea how old Enid was, but Carl was almost fifteen now— and if Rick didn't want to be a grandfather before he ever became a father again, they really needed to have that talk.

She momentarily thought how it would've been being a step grandmother before she could be ever a mother, too—but chased the thought away. She was _already_ a mother. She supposed she was going to be more like a mother figure to Carl, a friend and a stepmother, but she was going to be the only mother Judith had ever known. Judith was _her_ baby—much like how she was Rick's—genes and semantics could be damned all she cared.

She just wanted to be a mother _again_ wanted to feel that, having a piece of Rick growing inside her—create that beautiful thing with him—them together—a family.

Seeing her, Judith raised her arms too, calling for her _mommy_, and Amanda smiled, her insides swooning like each time Judith reached out for her, wanting her to take in her arms—her baby wanted her to keep safe... Amanda bent down and cuddled up her in her arms. "Hey there…" She smiled at her baby, "Wanna mommy, huh? Good girl…"

Judith grabbed her hair and yanked it off— Amanda laughed out. "Ah—having a temper, eh?" she told her back, pulling her head backward, "I _know_. I'm having it myself, either, honey…" she talked to the baby, "Just had a fight with daddy. He's driving me crazy—but don't worry, I'm handling it." She smiled, "But don't forget—you're going to say mamma first before dadda, 'kay?" she continued taking her out of the room, "Just like we talked…"

She walked out in the hall and placed the baby beside the couch, then standing up, she looked around as Judith tried to get up at her feet, holding on the edge of the couch.

As Judith had started walking along the couch, holding on it, Amanda realized they needed some redecorating.

Deanne's house—their house- was a death trap for a twelve-month baby whose world had just gotten a hell of larger, full of furniture with sharp edges. Walking babies were the worst—you could never let them even a moment out of your sight—they were also at the most curious stage—throwing everything they found in their mouths—and Judith was still cutting teeth so she had itches… just yesterday Amanda had caught her throwing in her mouth a bolt Carl had left around—and almost had a heart attack.

Okay, maybe she was getting a bit—worked up. At first, she was all like "as long as there's life, there's also hope" state, but after the first rush of her good feelings dampened, her usual feel of unsafety had returned—scenarios, what ifs running through her mind—and she fucking hated it—that feeling—like always—the confines of her comfort zone had exploded so spectacularly, her insecurities were all over the place. She'd been trying to find her balance again—but well—Rick wasn't helping.

She brought the baby up and decided to find Beth. She knew she'd just started a fight with Rick, but dammit, she wanted her baby with her! Yes, they had to separate the rooms at the some point, but Amanda had been hoping that time could wait a bit longer—they'd been so happy together—okay, there had been a few unfortunate times Judith had chosen to cry—like at the morning of their wedding night, but so Judith had to go away? How could she let her baby be alone in a room—where they were never safe… They were safe, in their homes they were safe—but…bad things happened all the time. What if—what if the last night it'd been a walker or something—Rick had the same fears too, she knew it, he was even having it worse—so why—_how_ she could leave her baby there alone?

Rick knew how it felt not being safe—but he didn't know how a child would feel not feeling it. He thought he knew it, but he didn't. He'd grown up with a loving family—with caring parents—had never had to force himself to sleep, trembling with fear, with uncertainty, waiting something bad happen—sometimes so much that you found yourself wishing it _actually_ happened just so you could be free of it. She could die before she let Judith feel like that!

She put on their winter jackets—first Judith, then her own—a black quilted jacket she'd found in Deanne's wardrobe, and they'd found one a very similar one for Judith too, and left the house. She had to see Beth—had to talk with her.

She found the younger woman in front of the infirmary—smiling at her as she saw Amanda approaching, Judith in her arms. "Hey—just saw Rick—his face souring milk. What happened?"

She let out a sigh, "Had a fight."

Beth smiled, "I figured out that much." Beth took a step forward and took the Judith from her—her ring on her finger flashing at the dim sunlight. Daryl had given Beth a large diamond ring, she had no idea how the man had managed to find it—but Amanda had learned not to ask such kind of question about Daryl Dixon.

He always found what he needed.

Beth put Judith down and watched her as the baby girl started wobble along the railings. Her eyes lifted at Amanda, "She's going to walk all by herself soon!" she exclaimed with delight.

"I know—we need to redecorate the house."

Beth nodded. Perhaps they also—redecorate the house with people too. Just four of them had been good—but perhaps if others had been around, it would've been better—and Amanda could not actually believe she'd thought of it—wanting a crowd around herself—she fucking hated crowds, not having any privacy—her personal getting comprised. It'd been so hard at the church—she almost trembled remembering those days—even worse in the wild—and look at her now—wanting more people around her.

She was losing her mind—she was definitely losing it.

"Aaron wants to look for people again," Beth talked a few seconds later, "Still want us to go out with him, too. I was going to talk about it this morning, but I thought it'd be better if we talked it privately. Then I saw Rick—" Shaking her shoulders, she faltered.

Bending down as Judith swaggered at her feet, she held the baby before she dropped on her ass at the floor, "Recruiting's still dangerous—" she told Beth back, "We still need to wait. I want to go north to the Museum but he even doesn't want that."

North—North had that sanctuary Dwight and Cherry had talked about. A week after the battle they had fought against the walker, Rick had left with Daryl, taking Dwight too, making a recon—and when he'd come back—he'd told them they stayed the fuck away from the north.

Amanda had conceded… they should stop looking for trouble—and she had a nagging suspicion sooner or later the trouble was going to find them too—it was also the way of the things too—there was always something _worse_ out there—always. Just like she'd told Rick before, and just like she'd told him before they were all going to be glad to Rick being the man who he was when they found that worse.

But Amanda wasn't still looking for it.

Nope.

"So…" Beth said, drawling out, "What happened?"

Hoisting Judith up, Amanda sighed and sat down at the steps. "Judith."

Then Beth understood, "He's right, you know," her friend said, "Judith has to have her own place now. She wants it too."

Well, yeah, there was that too. The getting separated from her parents was hard for every baby, but Judith had been worse—even worse than _her_ before, and got… settled down after they'd arrived Alexandria—she remembered herself joking at Rick, telling him she was smart girl, knew where she could get a bit of privacy…

Good lord! She was an idiot!

Everyone needed their privacy, their own personal space, even babies—then why the mere thought of it made something inside her stomach twisted—? She hated any space between them, always wanted to be wrapped around each other, his weight crushing her, or their arms and legs tangled—sleeping or fucking—it didn't matter, she just wanted to be close to him—closer… She wanted all of them be close—inches apart—a big, fucking, _happy_ family!

She shook her head— she was losing it. She needed to get a grip on herself. "Okay—here's the thing," Amanda started marking the facts, "Rick wants me to stop bring her back to the bed, wants me to stop going to her each time she cries—"

"Amanda, she cries because she knows you will come to her as soon as she starts crying," Beth said, cutting her off, her voice trying to be soft and reasoning.

But Amanda shook her head, almost rolling her eyes. "I _know_. I'm not stupid. She's _manipulating_ me. Her cries, and those wide baby blue eyes, her lips trembling…" She shook her head, looking at the baby at her lap. She was a sucker for that regard. As soon as Amanda saw her crying—those trembling lips and those wide wet blue eyes glistening with tears, she got done. She was a sucker, yes, and she didn't fucking care. She smiled at her baby girl, and let out a sigh, "You can't never imagine how babies can be manipulative. How they _test_ you…trying to find boundaries…" She paused, her lips pulling out, "She's being too much predictable, but well—we can deal with it later…"

Amanda could teach her baby _better_… and shook her head as soon as the thought appeared in her mind. No…no…no… Her baby would never need to test anything—_anything_. If any testing would need to be done, Amanda would do it in her stead. Judith would never need to deal with those kind of things—_never_. Her baby had her. Judith didn't need to do those things—not like she… Never. Just another reason why she had come back to their room—so she didn't need to test—her mother…

"Amanda, I think, you're still missing the point," Beth finally said, breaking the silence.

"What's the point, Beth?" she asked back, almost imploring, because she damn well felt like she'd lost it. "How the hell I am supposed to know if she's being just a baby or a walker just slipped through her room?" she fumed in "She can't even talk!"

Beth stared at her, "How a walker would pass into her room, Amanda?" she asked, "Your house's the safest house in the town. Rick made it sure. You know it."

She shrugged, "Shit happens. Imagine a walker slipped by—"

Beth cut her off, "How?" she demanded, "Tell me how a walker can slip into her room?"

Amanda stopped, tightening her arms around Judith, and tried to think of a scenario… Their rooms were at the second floor, so they could never come from the windows…not that they would ever climb. Rick had a bolt attached to the main door, securely closed it off each time before they went to sleep—the other doors, the back door and the garage door was welded—he'd said they would cut their own exit in case that they had to leave the house—not wanting any open egress points… The windows had grills too, he'd managed to put them up himself from the profiles in the warehouse. No. Their house was safe. It was safe, unless one of them died and turned—no walker could breach without them knowing. And she understood Beth's point—she really did—but still…

Beth sighed at her silence—and shook her head too. "Amanda—you worry for nothing."

"I just—" she said, then let out a sigh too, "I don't know… I'm just—afraid."

"I know," she said, "but you have to let it go, too."

She shrugged, "Yeah."

"Denise—" Beth then started, and her back straightened, knowing what was coming— "Perhaps—you should talk with her."

She shook her head. "I can't talk to her—" she told her friend back, "Rick and I—we're supposed to lead these people, Beth. How can we do it if I keep yammering about my—things to the town's doctor?"

"She's a doctor," Beth said, "She's got the doctor-patient confidence."

"No—it's just a liability. I talk to you because you're my friend. She's—she's one of the people I need to lead, I need to keep alive. This's too personal. We can't get that personal." She shook her head again, "It never bodes well."

It never. A time would come and they would need these people follow their orders, did what they were told—there had to be a line—a line not to cross—and if she went there and talked about these stuff—she crossed it. She'd crossed it with Beth, but Beth was her family. She was the little sister she'd never had. These people were not. It just didn't work that way.

"Then the pills?" Beth asked, "They'd relax you—" she offered, but her face closed off, her lips pursing down.

Taking meds—because she _couldn't_ function properly at her own. No way. No fucking way. That was for quitters, and Amanda was never a quitter. _Never_. She was strong. She didn't need any fucking meds to keep her up. She dealt with her problems on her own. She always did. At the end, she always found a way too.

"No, I'm fine—" so she told Beth, her voice crisp, "I'm gonna deal with it—" She stood up, hoisting up Judith in her embrace, and smiled at her friend, "I always do."

* * *

_A/N: This opening scene was inspired by an old French movie called Betty Blue, which is the most erotic and intense sex scene had ever filmed-and you know-you can smell trouble there just watching-I tried to get the same feeling, too-hope I managed._

_This was more a setting for the story-to show the minds of my characters, and where they stand at this point of in their lives-so things might be slow for a bit for a while._

_There were tons for callbacks both to Adaptation, and to the show-but I'm just too lazy to list them now-just wanted to clarify because it's important for Rick's stand of point- wanting to put it back together comes from Rick's hallucinated phone call after Lori's death._

_Like always, reviews make any writer happy, I'm not an exception, either. Thank you._

_Cheers._


	2. Chapter 2

II.

Before the noon, Rick gestured at Carl, standing in front of the porch. He had to check out the construction of their outer wall, so Rick surmised the father and son talk he had to make would work better while doing some leg work. Half of the town were already outside the walls, preparing the foundation for the masonry wall they tried to build. Tobin was at head of the construction team now again as after both Reg and Carter's death, he was the most experienced constructor in the town.

Rick had found a couple of books at Reg's library, the books he'd managed to bring with himself before they'd ended up at Alexandria—and had been studying them since two months, but the architecture professor had been more into the history of architecture, so there was no section in the books how to build up a masonry wall up to fifteen ft for dummies.

Inwardly he sighed out. How he wished to have one of those _for dummies_ books. They'd been digging and smoothing the soil that would support the whole weight of the stones, so the wall would stay up without collapsing because of its own weight. As the stone blocks were too heavy the base must be sturdy, enduring. Rick hoped it'd be enough to sustain the weight.

Seeing Rick calling at him, Carl left Enid—walking toward him as with the corner of his eyes, he caught Amanda and Beth sitting at the steps of the infirmary at the other side of the town, Judith in her lap. Rick gave out a low snort. Of course, she'd found Beth. They looked like they'd been in a loaded conversation too, not even noticing him in front of the house—staring at them at the distance. Amanda was shaking her head agitatedly, bending down toward Judith, rocking her back and forth, lost in the conservation.

Rick then knew. Beth was talking into her—and that meant she was going to come to grovel to him again—possibly bearing gifts. It was a routine Rick had wised up now. Most of the times after their fight, Amanda found Beth, Beth talked to her, then Amanda found him—to have a talk—it'd been like this since the beginning—since the time Amanda had come with Beth after Grady had fallen, and even though Rick was glad both girls had this kind of close friendship with each other—almost a kinship—he was getting tired of this routine.

He still didn't have time for this. They still didn't have time for this. And he wanted her to come to _him_—talk to him—tell him what was wrong—not twist his words to pick up a fight, firing accusations—it was never sex between them, and she knew, she damn knew about it, yet she still started sputtering the words whenever she got mad. He didn't like talking about feelings, yes, but Rick had learned his lesson, and he didn't make the same mistake twice.

Amanda, on the other hand, had a specialty turning them into a routine.

He sent her a glare as she stood up with Judith, and shaking his head, turned away. Later. He was going to deal with it later, when they were alone at the home at night. Now—he needed to deal with _this_.

Despite what Amanda might think, he wasn't an idiot. He'd noticed things between Carl and Enid had developed much more than just being friends after the Wolves attack—but sex? He looked at the teenage boy in front of him. Carl almost was fifteen now—almost a man. He recalled the way he'd fought beside him during the attack when they'd gotten circled over the walkers—almost done, the way he had accepted it—hadn't retreated with the rest of them—Rick had thought how his son had become a man, protecting his family—his loved ones—but this…?

No. Rick wasn't sure if he liked _this_ getting this much ahead of them.

Though, he knew fifteen wasn't so young—not even the before the turn—there had been girls in the school who got pregnant at fourteen—but even then Rick had thought of it sad. He'd been sixteen the first time he had sex—after the prom night at the high school, much like his classmates, aside Shane of course, Shane had had first a way before then—

His eyebrows tightened, he nodded at his son. "I'm gonna check the outer wall—" he explained, and gestured at him again, taking a step toward the gate, "Want to come?"

But Carl hadn't followed. "Eh—I promised Enid I'm gonna help her—" he answered, still staying where he was, "You go."

Rick narrowed his eyes. He thought his son was a much better liar. "Help her with what?" he questioned further.

"She—she wanted me to teach shooting—" Carl said, but Rick cut him off.

"Isn't she in Abraham's class?"

Carl shrugged, "She wants to practice."

Rick gave his son a long look, then shook his head. "You can—practice later," he said, and motioned again, "Come. We need to talk."

Carl gave him a look back after his words, but as Rick turned and walked, this time he followed.

Outside the constructions site they first found Tobin. The man quickly came to his side seeing him. "Hey—I wanted to talk to you," he said, breathless, holding up a rolled up drawings in his hand, "I made some calculations last night," he explained, holding up his rolled up paper higher. Around them, they were still digging in earth and asphalt. It was a hard job too, cutting through asphalt was hard because they couldn't use any drilling machine to destroy the blocks. They'd found a drilling machine in the warehouse, but using it meant walkers, so they'd left where they'd found it. So, it meant a lot of handwork.

On the bright side, it also meant townspeople having a work to do—doing something—building _something_—so it kept hands and minds busy—so maybe it wasn't so bad, either.

"This might not be enough," Tobin announced then, waving his hand over the construction site, "The stones just too heavy, just cut off from mountain. We need to load bearings to sustain it up," he explained further as Rick nodded. He'd started expecting that too but hearing the confirmation didn't help because he also knew what that meant. "I thought the square beams in the warehouse would do it, so I checked it out, but we don't have enough of them left now." The man paused, "We also need more cement plaster."

Understanding the man, Rick nodded. Tobin meant to say they needed to make another supply run for the shopping mall construction site Alexandria had first taken the materials for its wall. "I'm gonna look at it," he told the man, and took a shovel from the ground and handed it to Carl.

Since they were here, they would make some of handwork themselves, too.

He drew the tip of the shovel in the earth and started digging as Carl followed his example too. Supply runs now were dangerous than before—after Rick had gone to the north and saw that community where Dwight and Cherry had come with his eyes. If he could help, he would never let anyone set a foot outside the walls not before they had put up this stone wall outside, but like he found himself saying most of the times in these days, want doesn't get.

Winter was going to be hard, and they had to be prepared. Food was going to be the biggest problem and things were becoming so worse, and north, towards the DC, was…problematic, but the other directions weren't promising.

Rick felt he was caught between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between two equally unpleasant course of action. Now—he got _this_ too, Amanda's dry voice chiding at him, _go find condoms before they do something stupid._

He shook his head, not even daring to think how it would be like—Carl accidentally getting the girl knocked up—His face soured. He straightened a bit, lifting his head up, digging and asked with a voice he hoped was casual enough, "You and Enid—you've started to have a lot of time together…" he told his son.

Carl lifted his head, too, and gave him a look back. Then he shook his head. "Amanda talked to you, didn't she?" he asked, "She saw Enid leaving my room—"

Rick stopped digging and straightened back fully. "She told me this morning, but I noticed it too." He paused, staring at his son pointedly, tilting his head down, "It's hard _not_ to."

They were like twins now, attached at the hip. Carl nodded half, "It's okay, dad. We—we know what we're doing."

Rick raised his eyebrow. "You do?"

"I'm almost fifteen, and she's sixteen," Carl answered back, his voice turning a bit firmer, "We _know_ what we do."

Letting out a low sigh, Rick walked closer to his son. "Look, I know I can't stop you. You're young—and the world—the world isn't like before—" He shook his head, "Hell, years ago people used to get married in your ages—but—" he continued, "But this is no joke. No fooling around," he told his teenage boy sternly, no more kid stuff… "You have to be careful. If she gets pregnant—"

Carl cut him off, "I'm being careful. I'm pulling back before—" he paused—looking at Rick—and his cheeks flushing bowed his head, "Uh—before I finish."

And Rick almost had a heart attack. He took an agitated step forward, and held his son's arm, "so did half of the population of earth before things went crazy. It's too dangerous—"

His head snapped up, Carl gave him a heated look, "You slept with Amanda while we were at the road—you slept with her at the barn—" he told him, words challenging, "Did you have condoms with you then or did you pull back too?"

Rick stared at his son. Not only because he realized Carl had actually heard them having sex at the barn—but because he understood fully his son had gone into adolescence stage.

Overlooking the confronting words, Rick decided to be practical about it, matter of fact. "Don't you have condoms?" he only asked back.

"We used to—but it's finished—" Carl said with a faint shrug in his voice, "I asked Denise then, but she said her stash ran out… and you don't let us go supply runs—" Carl faltered again.

Yeah, going on looking for condoms—Rick wouldn't have thought making time for that— He shook his head. "Look—we have so much to do—" Rick started, but Carl cut him off again.

"Don't worry that. I know what I'm doing. I'm a man now, and I want to have my family," he then announced placidly as Rick looked at him, lost, "I'm gonna ask her marry me."

# # #

"What?" Daryl asked later in the day as Rick found him before he went back to the house, calling it a night.

A supply run—they needed to go on a supply run—like _now_. This—this was ridiculous. After Carl had told him those words, Rick had rendered speechless, even couldn't talk for a minute, then only said they would talk about it later.

First things first, they needed to find those damn condoms!

They must be setting up bad examples, Rick realized, too, giving his ragged friend a look—popping out _the question_ out of nowhere, they'd created a flux in the town. In two month after the battles, a lot of people had gotten involved—Tobin had started seeing Carol, Spencer was courting with Rosita, but Rick had no idea who are with who there as Abraham started hitting Sasha too—the Alexandrians had started each other too, and Daryl had married Beth.

Amanda had decided to throw out a dinner party for the occasion as their house was the house, and the celebration had to be in the house just like Deanne used to do. They'd gathered together, Daryl and Rick had looked out for white dresses. Rick had wanted to find one for Amanda too like they'd talked before, but Amanda had said the night belonged to Beth and they shouldn't have stolen the spotlight, and she hadn't been still cleared off for intercourse then, and she had repeated she wasn't going to pass another wedding night just sleeping as the night Rick had just slipped her ring in her finger at the night she'd broken up with him at the morning. Rick had laughed then, agreeing. They should've their own night, too, only belonging to them—to _her_. His bride. But after she'd gotten cleared off, they'd sort of forgotten about it, Amanda never mentioning it again. So, Rick let it go, and her dress stayed where she had put it in the wardrobe.

He shook his head, typical, just typical.

Turning back to the other man, Rick gave Daryl a look, and repeated, "He said he's going to marry Enid."

"You kiddin', man," Darly said back, this time a low laugh erupting out of his chest in a deep rumble, and it was hard to get that reaction from Daryl Dixon if you weren't Beth Greene, "Whaddya say?" the hunter asked further.

Rick shook his head again, "Told him we're gonna talk about it later—" He let out a sigh, "What I'm supposed to say anyway—my fourteen boy just told me he wants to marry." He gave the other man a look, "We're setting up an example." Though good or bad Rick wasn't sure anymore.

Daryl shrugged off, "Yeah…" Then Daryl's expression got heavier—and his eyes wandered away—but after a second he turned to him again, "Can I ask you somethin', Rick?" the rough hunter asked for the first time Rick had known the other man, and even the notion of asking Daryl asking his permission was enough for Rick to understand Daryl wanted to ask about very personal thing. Something their resident provider had never felt comfortable doing, neither Rick. But Rick had called him his brother. He nodded silently.

"Back there—when she got pregnant—you wanted it—" Daryl asked, "You got pissed off when I asked if you planned it—" Rick nodded, the questioned had gotten him each time, as no one had believed they had wanted to have a baby together, but thought Amanda had gotten knocked up accidently, "Why did ya want a child?" Daryl questioned further, "Shepherd—I got it… but you, man—" Daryl gestured at him, "You already two children—why another?" he asked, "In this world—" he added under breath.

Rick leaned at the beams of the porch in front of his former house, too, and tried to explain, "I wanted to be a father again, Daryl," he said as plain as possible, "The only reason I'm alive now is to keep you safe—all of you. My family. Before the prison—I wanted to put it back together, for Carl, for Lori, for you, but I couldn't. Then I tried to do my best, and this time I did, I think, at least for a while…then Governor came and took it away—and I failed again. So, I just lived to keep you safe." He shook his head, shaking his head, "Then Amanda came, dropped into the middle of our life. Then I fell in love. I have no idea how it happened. It just did, she found her way in, pushing all of my damn buttons, driving me crazy. She looks like Lori, too, have you ever noticed it? She broke up with me when she realized it—we were almost done. It took Beth convince her to come to me again. She wanted my child and I wanted her to have my child...Why?" He shook his head, "I took so many lives now, I wanted to give something back, Daryl. Create something. I wanted to see—I'm not only good for killing, that I can still be… _me_," he finished, shaking his head, and looked at his friend, "Why did ya ask?"

"I'unno—" Daryl said then, shaking his head back a little, "I've been thinkin'—"

Understanding, Rick nodded. "I see." He paused, "Beth always used to say she wanted to have children," he said back.

Daryl nodded absently, "She's very good with Sam—" he said.

Rick nodded again, bowing his head, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder before he walked away, "Just listen to…yourself, brother," he said, and repeated what he'd first told Amanda at the night they'd made their baby, "This world—this world doesn't belong to them, we're still here."

Daryl let out a gruff, and nodded back, "And we ain't goin' nowhere—"

Rick smiled at him and walked away.

# # #

When Rick had come in the evening, Amanda had almost finished covering the edges of all the furniture in the house with rubber and a tape and was dealing with the last table in the hall. The hall had been a nightmare, having many furniture, but Amanda hadn't given up. It couldn't leave any space open, and she just needed to keep her hands busy so her mind wouldn't work up, more than it already had.

Her first reaction had been finding a drink, and but she'd chased the thought away. Drinking away from the problems was for quitters, too. Yes, she occasionally drunk at the road, and she'd gotten drunk after her miscarriage, but those had been exceptions. If she started drinking again, she might as well go and take those pills too.

She just couldn't understand why everyone wanted her to take the damn pills! When she'd gotten drunk, Rick had lost his mind—even had had a talk with Abraham, warning him not to give her any booze—now they wanted her walking sluggish at her feet, lethargic. Those pills made her so drowsy. Denise had mentioned they could've arranged the dosage, but still… She didn't want to depend on meds to function! It curled something in her stomach, making her sick. She wasn't that fragile. She used to see those women in her precinct, drugged so heavily they almost couldn't understand what was happening around them—and whispers behind the backs—and looks… No—no, never. It wasn't fair. When you just took a drink, no one questioned you—but when you took a pill, whispers and looks immediately started.

She let out a snort, hypocrites.

Her back was aching. Putting the tape and rubber she had found, she straightened her back, putting her hand at her waist, arching back. Oh boy, keeping her hand busy was good, but it hurt like a bitch. She brought her other hand to her shoulder, tilting her neck downward, and started massaging her sore muscles. Hmm, perhaps she should've just continued her research.

Cherry had said that colony—Hilltop—was around, and something bugged at Amanda. Hilltop sounded to him really liked a nickname—something dubbed, maybe it was geographical place or historical—or something. Both Reg and Deanne were very cultivated people, well-educated, and they had books. Many, many books, and they had managed to bring them with themselves at the start of the things on their way to their home country before their way had blocked by the military and they had been escorted to the Alexandria. So, their library was full of books that Amanda had taken a keen interest.

Amanda had always loved books, used to pass most of her spare time in her youth reading as she used to hate getting personal with anyone in the academy, always either hitting at the gym, or going to library. She liked books. Amanda had never been a woman of direct actions, as she understood at a young age manipulations and mind games just worked better than heated acts.

Well, she was a rep to lose her shit, as well, but like Beth had said no one was perfect. But Hilltop—if they could find where it was—well, Amanda didn't know truthfully. Rick had been very adamant not to go look for trouble since they learned about this Negan and his men. But Hilltop had a gynecologist, according to Cherry, at least, and that changed everything—at least for her.

This wasn't working for her. Rick believed they could have a baby again, tucking the damn pillow under her ass each time after they had sex, but Amanda knew herself. Self-awareness had always been her curse, and Amanda never denied a fact, too. She wasn't like Michonne, she wasn't like Beth, she wasn't like Lori, as Rick had assured her many times, but she wasn't like Rick, either. No. She had to know. Belief was all good and nice, and Amanda always preferred hard-cold facts of life.

So, she knew if didn't learn if she could ever be pregnant again, or sooner or later, no, _sooner_ than later she was going to lose it again. This time she wasn't even sure how spectacularly she might blow things off—and she wasn't looking forward to find out.

Nope.

She heard the door opening outside the hall, and her heart suddenly started beating harder—if it was Rick—dammit, she still didn't prepare herself to encounter him! She'd thought he still might out for a hour or so before he came back—and Carl was still out, probably with Enid—and he always came at the house later in the night—so it must be Rick—

She quickly bowed her head and started covering the edges hearing the footsteps. Against her back, she sensed his presence, and she knew it was him even before he walked to him and sat beside her at the floor in front of the coffee table.

She was trying to hold the rubber at the place with one hand as with the other put the tape on it. Wordlessly he took back the tape from her hand and plastered it over the rubber. She lifted her head as he checked the room, wandering his eyes around, "Judith—" Amanda explained, "She will start walking soon. We need to cover the edges."

He nodded, giving her look, a long, hard look. Dammit! She quickly ran her eyes. She really wasn't ready for this. She was thinking maybe cooking for him before doing some groveling… perhaps even cookies—then she could find him, bearing gifts—like each time she tried to make peace with him. She frowned. Damn man! Always screwing up her plans.

Inwardly sighing, she held the rubber at the other edge, leaning across him, and waited before he started putting the sticky tape. She thought she was going to deal with it—but right now, she had no idea why. One part of her just wanted to burst into tears so he could take her in his arms—and hold her—caress her hair, whisper into her ear—she hated things be like this between them, but the other part just waited him to plaster the band even when she felt her eyes getting prickly…

"Did you talk with Carl?" she asked then before she really burst into tears, her voice still breaking despite her efforts.

Rick pretended not to notice it, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not. Her eyebrows pulled as she tossed at him a glance. He was still staring at the rubber and the tape.

"Yes—" he answered then, "He told me he was going to marry Enid."

She dropped her hands, her mouth agape. "What?!"

"Yeah—" Rick muttered out, "He said he was a man now." He paused, "He said he wanted to have his family."

Then she couldn't help it. She burst into _laughter_. "Like the father, like the son," she mumbled, and Rick shot at her such a glare, she raised her hands up, bowing her head, "Sorry." Then lifted her eyes at him, "We're setting up examples, right?" she asked then, and his eyes grew heated, "You and me… Beth and Daryl—" She shook her head, giving out a snort, "You know it's kinda sad—"

Rick gave her a look, "Why?" he asked, and narrowed his eyes, searching through her, "Do you think us…sad?"

She shook her head, "No—I think us…a miracle," she said, "But—but we're not the epitome of healthy relationships, right?" She paused, "Neither you and me—or Beth and Daryl."

"I don't see them fighting every week," Rick pointed out.

Amanda snorted out, and muttered under breath, "And you don't see me cutting myself after a break-up…"

"What?!" Rick exclaimed, leaning down in on her, and Amanda jumped at her place, holding her mouth—her eyes widened.

She was the most stupid, cruel, selfish bitch ever in the world! She held on Rick's arms, "Rick!" she implored, panicked, "Don't _ever_ say a word to anyone, please! If Beth knew you knew—" she almost cried, shaking her head, "She'd never trust me again—please." She gave him a begging look, her fingers digging at him desperately, "_Please_. You know how important she's to me. If she disregards me like Maggie—" she shook her head, "Please, promise me you will never—"

He cut her off, holding her arms, and turned her to him completely, "Amanda, calm down. I won't say anything—okay?" he told her, "_Calm down._"

She nodded, her tears breaking over. "What happened?" Rick asked then, but she shook her head.

"Amanda—" Rick insisted though, "You already slipped it off. What happened? Did—did she hurt herself after Daryl left her."

She nodded. "I learned later. She—she told me about it later—after I broke up with you. She—she said Daryl got so afraid when he caught her doing it—He stayed with her." She looked at him, "She stopped. She was in depression, but she's okay now. She stopped it, Rick."

Rick nodded. "I think Daryl wants a baby, too—" Rick then said, looking away, as Amanda stared at him, "He asked me today why I wanted another child."

She swallowed and asked, "What did you say?"

"I told him the truth," he told her back, staring at her, "That I wanted you to have my baby, wanted to create a life with you."

She looked at him, and swallowing through a lump in her throat, she asked too with a low voice, bowing her head, "Judith is sleeping—and Carl will come later—can we—can we go to our room?"

Rick gave her a searching look, titling his head a bit to find her eyes, "I don't want to have sex right now—" he told her, "What else would we do in the room?" and asked, shooting back her words, "Discuss politics?"

"Rick—" she muttered, broken.

"No, tell me—" he pressed further, though, demanding, "What do you want us to do in the room?"

"You know I didn't mean it—"

"Why do always tell me things you didn't mean, Amanda?" he asked then. She stayed in silence, for she didn't have any answer for that question. She just couldn't help herself, but it didn't sound like the right answer. Rick shook his head, "I found a wedding dress for you, and you just put into the wardrobe, then pretended like it doesn't exist—" he told her as startled, she snapped her head at him, "Go to the room, Amanda—maybe you should think a bit."

Then he stood up and left her.

Then she started crying.

# # #

Even later in the night, he didn't come.

Amanda tossed in the bed, listening to footsteps outside the room—but they didn't come. She'd cried like—two hours after she'd come to their room—but her cries had stopped now.

She felt so tired she couldn't even try.

She was ruining everything—everything. Perhaps Rick was even reconsidering his decision—and at the morning was going to tell this wasn't working. He wasn't even coming to the bed—she didn't know—she didn't know why she had just left the white dress there…

Everything happened so fast—and each time they had something good—really good—something bad followed—why did he always ask her questions she didn't know the answers.

_What are you then_—he had asked her before the first time he'd—_bitten_ her, and Amanda couldn't have answered then too, just had looked at him stupefied—not knowing how to answer—and it didn't look a lot changed had changed after then. She always knew what she wasn't. She didn't want to be a dirty cop, she didn't want to a victim of the circumstances—she thought perhaps she just might be his wife, and the mother of his children, building a better life together—a better world, and it would be enough for her. Amanda never had big ambitions, she just wanted them to be together.

She heard the footsteps and raised inside the bed a little, her heart fluttering—but the footsteps went away—at the other side of the corridor, and flutters in her chest died as she slumped back at the bed… Carl had returned. Rick was still at downstairs.

She almost started crying again—She was losing him. The fright took her away—what if—what if he really decided it didn't work between them—she had broken with him just because of that before—what if he would come the next morning and told her the same too…

She shook her head… No… No, he loved her… he never loved anyone the way he loved her… He couldn't leave her. But what if he did?

Throwing away the blankets, she put on her dress robe over her PJs and went to find him. He was at couch resting over it, a blanket loosely draped over his chest. There was a book in his hand, too—but he wasn't reading it. His hand was holding on it over his chest as he stared at the ceiling as his other hand supported his neck at the back of his head.

His eyes skipped at her, but he stayed in silence as she took the book from him and placed it at the coffee table. "Rick, please—" she started then, groveling— "If you don't want to talk to me, fine, don't talk to me, but don't punish me like this—_please_—" she said, "Come to bed—don't talk to me—but come, please." She paused, "I—I'm losing my mind there alone—thinking," she confessed, her eyes wet, "You know what it does to me—please."

His eyes grew heavier, looking at her, then he lowered his hand from his neck and lifted the blanket up, and slipped away at the couch to make room, "Come," he only said, turning on his side.

She smiled big and snugged against him as he threw back the blanket over their bodies.

"Thank you," she whispered as his arm coiled around her waist.

In answer, he only kissed her shoulder, his lips briefly touching over her skin, but it was more than enough. His arms, his presence soothed her—like always, calming her down—the little voice inside her mind—she just shut them out—and closed her eyes. "Rick—" she called him out before she did though, because he needed to know—because she needed to tell him, "I—I like being with you even when we do nothing—" she told him, "Just being with you is enough most of the times. Your presence brings me peace."

He kissed her shoulder again in answer, but this time his lips lingered longer—then started trailing up. "Glad to hear it…"

"And—I—I'm sorry. I—I think I'm doing it—say stuff I don't mean when I get angry because I guess I know you'd take it because you love me," she confessed then, with a sigh, "Then when you don't, I get scared—"

"—if you pushed too much," Rick completed for her, cutting her off, and she heard his sigh behind her, then he twirled her around, and made her look at him, "You _ought to _stop testing me, Amanda," he told her firmly.

"I—I'm sorry," she mumbled out.

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry. Don't _do_ it." He looked at her, "It hurts us. It hurts _me_," he brought her closer, "Do you want to hurt me, Amanda?"

She shook her head hurriedly. "No! Of course not—Never."

"Then _don't_ do it—" Rick told her again.

She nodded. "Okay."

She wondered then if he would kiss her—they were so close now—inches apart… She bit her lips and made a little move toward him, but he shook his head—and turned her again back— "No, we aren't having sex tonight. Go to sleep now."

Settling back in his arms, she sighed out. "And I'm _not_ punishing you," he whispered out in his ear, "I'm just tired. Learned today I might be a grandpa soon."

She giggled softly, "We're too young to be grandparents," she mumbled.

Rick made out a huff through his nose. She twisted her neck aside and looked at him over her shoulder, "Rick—we—we never sleep in the separate beds, okay?" she—asked him then, "Even when we fight—even when we don't talk—we sleep in the same bed, please."

Rick gave her a faint smirk, "We're not sleeping in the bed now."

She rolled her eyes, and let out a sigh. Leaning down, he kissed the tip of her nose. "Okay. Now, go to sleep. I need to go to a supply run. Need to find condoms."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Turning back, she laughed again, "You're a good father, Rick Grimes."

He sniffed, and Amanda pulled his arms closer around her, smiling with content—the tightness inside her loosening up as she settled herself against him further, "Don't wriggle—" Rick warned as something poked at her back—a semi hard thing.

She giggled again, "I thought you were tired—" she muttered.

"I am—" he told her back sotto voce, "It just makes its own decisions."

"Ah—"

"Hmm—"

She almost giggled out again in response, but before she did, Judith's cries came from upstairs.

She stilled in his arms, her breath stuck—and closed her eyes. She felt his head going up, checking out.

Amanda listened to her baby. Judith was crying with little wheezing sounds—as if she was—trying to make herself cry. It was funny how much crying actually differed when you listened to it—when she was scared—her cries were almost a constant wail—continuous and terrified.

No—everything was fine. She knew it. Judith was just crying because she was just a baby. A baby who needed to learn some boundaries—much like her mother.

It wasn't a very nice thought, but well, Amanda was trying.

She let out a breath, and turned her head to Rick again, "I'll talk to her—tell her she needs to stay in her bed," she told him as Rick gave her a look, "Um—can you come with me?" she asked him then, "I can't take see her crying like that. And she _knows_ it."

His eyes at hers, Rick nodded, and started standing up. "Let's go."

Together, they climbed up the stairs to her room. Outside her room, Rick cracked the ajar door further, Amanda behind him, then they stepped inside. As soon as she saw her, Judith raised her arms towards her, looking at her with trembling lips and teary eyes, but steeling herself, Amanda shook her head. "No, sweetheart, you can't come. You have to sleep here," she softly spoke to the baby, leaning over the cot without touching her as Judith kept crying, "We're still here, but you have to sleep in your bed," she told her baby, "And Mommy and Dad will sleep in theirs. Okay?"

In answer, Judith just increased her cries.

Helplessly, she returned to Rick as he stepped next to him, "Judith, you have to sleep now. Everything is okay. This is your room. You have to sleep here, sweetheart."

In answer to him, too, Judith cried more.

At the end of an hour, Amanda dropped herself down on the floor, resting her back against the cot's railings as Rick stayed hovering over the railings, still talking to the baby girl. Carl had come once after Judith had wailed, when she had realized her momma and dadda not taking her, and looking at the baby, he'd asked them when they made her cry, and Rick had sent him back to the bed with a glare.

Her cries had turned to breathless little sobs, too, now out of tiredness, but she still kept crying. Rick turned aside, looking at her down, "Go now if you're tired. I'll come when she sleeps again."

She shook her head. "_You_ go," she said in answer, "You're tired, and you're going to a run tomorrow." She shook her head, and lifted it to her baby, "Besides, Mommy will not leave you because you're misbehaving, darlin' but really, you should stop now. Daddy needs to rest, sleep. _You_ need to sleep."

Then as in a miracle, it happened. Slowly, her sobbing dropped as Judith pushed herself back on the bed—and lay down. Excited, Amanda jolted at her feet, holding up the cot's railings—Rick reached down and caressed her stomach—soothing her, "Yeah—sleepy huh?" he mumbled softly, smiling at their baby angel, "Yeah—go to sleep now."

Judith made a protest again, and Rick caressed her again, "Shhssh—hushh—" he hushed her down as slowly her eyes drooped, and finally fell into sleep again.

He bowed his head then over the cot, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Harder than killing walkers," he mumbled out.

Smiling, she shook her head. "You're great at the both—" she told him, taking his hand, and kissed him at cheek, "You're a great man, Rick."

He smiled down at her. She tugged at his hand, and started dragging him out, her eyes skipping at her baby angel for a second before they walked out.

Together, then she knew, as long as they were together, they could do everything.

Everything.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

Faint, brief kisses drowsily woke up Amanda, flickering over her skin. Stretching out, raising her arms as she lay on her side, she softly giggled out, mixing with a sigh as Rick's lips trailed up over her neck and found the spot that made her tremble under her ear.

Her sighs turning into little moans, she fully drew to consciousness as his hand crept under her tank top and crawled up over her stomach and curled around her breast. Letting out a deep moan as he massaged her, she twisted her head to him. "Not tired now—?" she asked breathless, throaty words pushing out of her with difficulty as his other hand raising her hips dived in the bottom of her pajamas.

In answer, he trailed his fingers over her entrance, checking her—and murmured satisfied when his fingertips touched her wetness. "Always wet for me—" he rasped out, pushing her back on the mattress, and climbed on her.

Automatically, her arms and legs went up, circling him like she always did—trapped under him, and didn't respond, because Amanda never denied a fact, never ran away from it. So, she just kissed him.

Rick rolled over off her fifteen or so moments later, she would never know for sure with him how long they copulated—it usually always felt for her like eons—time in a dilation as they sucked into their own black hole. Like usual his hand found the pillow, laying beside her, then he nudged at her lightly.

"Up—" he told her.

Amanda let out a deep sigh, but still raised her hips. "I feel fucking stupid," she muttered, shaking her head as he tucked it under her.

Rick shook his head at her, "No—it's science—" he said back, lightly patting under her ass too, "Gravity."

She snorted, "Yeah."

Rick stood up, all naked, and gave her a look. "Gonna a take shower. You stay there, okay?" he asked, fixing her look checking her out.

She raised off a shoulder, "Fine."

He bent down, and gave her a quick kiss at her temple, "Don't whine," he said before marching to the bathroom.

Yeah… It was easier for him to say. He wasn't the one who stayed motionless, laying down on the bed, a pillow tucked under her, staring at nothing like a moron, all while trying not to worry if it'd be enough, if his seeds were running through her depths enough—if she was able to hold on them again—

She shook her head and shooed the thought away.

She should stop doing this—stressing herself out in constant worry. She always over analyzed everything, but compartmentalization also had been one of her best skills. No more, it seemed. Now her days passed like a mother hen—fretting about everything.

This wasn't her. This _so_ wasn't her—and she knew sooner or later she had to put a stop on it—all of this was making her worse—making her lose shit.

Last night—last night was so good—she had felt so…accomplished—doing it with Rick—managing it—even though it'd been putting a baby –a rather irritated with her parents baby- back to sleep –no less harder job than killing walkers, too—she wanted to feel that again. She had to feel that again… with Rick. They could do everything together. They always had been a good team together. Well, they'd fought and bickered, but always had managed it at the end. They'd taken Grady together, avoiding a bloodshed, they'd made it out at the road—and killed those walkers—They made a good team, they were a good team, and Amanda wanted to feel that again.

She didn't want to stay back—and fret.

No.

She was his wife—and a wife should hold her husband's back, be there for him—protect him… Her thoughts suddenly stopped, and she wondered if Michonne would come to supply run as well.

Her eyebrows suddenly pulled down as she knew the answer. Of course, she would. Michonne would never stop doing it—covering Rick's back. She let out a bitter snort. The damn woman wouldn't just go and find a man, making life a bit easier for Amanda. All damn Alexandria had started having heats with each other—all of them but Michonne. She knew his new partner, Scott, was having hots for the woman, but Michonne was all like the man wasn't existing.

Amanda tried not to worry about it—at least not much—they'd decided to be…civil with each other—but she would really feel enormously happy if the woman just went and had…a life. She didn't care if she sounded bitchy or not. She just didn't like seeing her with Rick.

And she would be damned if she let the other woman cover Rick's back again. Nope. One time had been enough for her for a lifetime. This supply run was the first time they'd ventured out again after the attacks in a big group, it'd been only Rick and Daryl when they'd gone to spy on those men in the north—and Rick hadn't let anyone leave the community after then aside for the quarry, but as they now were going out for the first time, Amanda knew where she was supposed to be, too.

She threw the pillow under her away, and jolted up at her feet, and started preparing. She changed into her cargo pants, and her old uniform's white shirt—Atlanta Police Department sigil over her chest, the only remaining part from her uniform, and put a sweater over it. As she was about to tied up her tactical boots, Rick walked out the bathroom and stared.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as if he couldn't understand. In the mornings, she usually wandered around in her wool oversized robe dress now.

She lifted her eyes over the boots, "I'm preparing."

Rick gave her a look in silence. "No," then he said.

She shook her head, pulling back the ties forcefully, "Yes—" she said back, "I'm coming, too."

Rick shook his head back, and repeated, his voice lowering a tone down—an edge entering in it— "Amanda, be _reasonable_."

"I'm being reasonable—" She was… she was fucking reasonable. If she stayed in the house for a day more, fretting—worrying over everything—and letting her husband be protected by another woman—she was going to lose it. "I'm a police officer. I want to come too."

"You don't need to—" he told her back, "We got it."

"I didn't say I need to," she encountered, and pointed out, "I said I want to." She took a breath out, finishing with her shoes, and stood up, "Look, this isn't working for me, Rick. I feel like I'm losing my mind…fretting over every damn thing, staying in the house all day. I—like being with you—I like taking care of Judith—protecting her—playing with her—everything—everything about her—about you, but I've got nothing else to do!" She exclaimed out, "You don't let me do anything. You _barely_ let me even leave the house. I can't do any hard work, I get it, but at least let me do this, okay?"

He walked over to her and held her at her upper arms. "Amanda, being outside is too risky. What if you're pregnant?"

She let out a sigh, shaking her head, "I'm not pregnant, Rick."

"You don't know _that_!" Rick bit off, walking on her, his hands still on her arms, "You had your period two weeks ago. You must be at the time of ovulation—" He paused, and waved his hand back at the bed, "Amanda—we might've just made a baby half of an hour ago."

"Stop this!" she yelled at him, her hands going up to her hair, "Just stop it—I can't take it anymore—" She shook her head again between her hands, "I can't function like this. I don't feel like…me. I don't need fucking Atarax, I need…_this_." Dropping her hands, she lifted her head up, "I even forgot how it's being outside, Rick." She breathed out again, and wrapped her arms around his waist, and placed her head on his chest. "I missed us—doing this…being a team. We were good together. Last night—when we managed to sleep Judith together—it felt so good—I missed it. I don't want you to do it with Michonne." Rick let out a sigh back at that, but she continued before he could speak, "I want to hold your back, protect you. I want to protect _my_ husband." She paused, "Please don't turn me into a cute house pet. That's not me."

His arms circling her, too, Rick sighed out. "I never thought you as a cute house pet—sometimes you're a bit catlike—but well, more often you're just a hedgehog," he told her then.

She lifted her head up, and looked at him, "Hedgehog?" she asked, her eyebrows drawing together. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not.

"Yeah—" he told her, a bit of smile turning the corner of his mouth up, "You got quills, sharp and edgy…pulling out whenever someone dares to come near to you."

"Well—" she said then, nodding, "When you say like this…"

His eyes held hers, "You will listen to me—" Rick said back, "Will not leave my side—"

"Rick—have you missed the part I said I'm a cop, too?" She rolled her eyes, "Are you really doing this?"

"_Yes_."

"Okay." She paused, and told him, "I'll listen to you, will not leave your side." She smiled, rising on her toes, "Will be a good girl, sir."

His hands went down over her ass, and he squeezed, "We'll see."

# # #

Giving Judith a lingering kiss on her hair at Carol's arms, Amanda stepped out beside him, and they walked toward the gate. Rick hoped he wasn't making a mistake. It didn't still feel right—her being outside when she might be pregnant again—they didn't know that.

They didn't. And the thought of her getting hurt again—in his mind the scenes flashed, the way she had been bleeding in his arms as he'd rushed her to the infirmary—beyond panic and scared, the way she cuddled herself into a ball in pain—no, he couldn't see her like that. He just wanted to protect her—keep her safe—a man's duty was to protect his family—his children—his wife—he couldn't fail at that again—yet she was right, too, Amanda couldn't function like that.

She said she needed…this, and Rick was aware she hadn't been exaggerating. Amanda had never been a woman of bold action, no, that wasn't her style, but she was a force of nature, not a cute house pet as she'd called. If he pushed it, she might have lost it again, and Rick was tired of it, tired of seeing barely holding up.

And Michonne was coming too, and he didn't want her to get worked up with that, either. Amanda had never been good with dealing jealously. He wanted to make things easier for her. They made a good team. She'd been right on that. Even the first time they'd fought in the hospital, even only knowing each other by name, they'd managed to work together. In the times they'd looked for the Wolves in the woods had been easy, they talked with the same language they both had been taught. She was a cop, even though he'd never understood truly why she'd chosen to be one, Rick always knew she was a damn good one.

If it'd been any other time, if she'd been anyone else, Rick would always want her out—would depend on her skills, but it wasn't any other time, and she wasn't anyone else. She _was_ his wife, and she might be pregnant with his child.

Rick put his hand on the small of her back and led her toward the gate. Turning her head aside, she gave him a small smile, her lips closed but earnest. Despite everything, she was right. It felt good—he'd missed this, too.

They stopped at the front of the gate, and Rick turned his gaze over the gathered crowd. He'd decided to have to separated teams, dealing with the different objectives. Glenn was leading his own team with Heath, they were going to collect the required list Tobin had demanded for the wall, and the rest of them was going to do the supply run this time. Normally Rick would've gone with Tobin, collecting the items, but he wasn't going to ask anyone to look for condoms for his son, and they also needed to look for food if they could, and if they could also manage to find pregnancy tests for Amanda, Rick would think the mission a good one.

They would need those pregnancy tests, too, in near future, hopefully. In the infirmary they had a couple of them stashed, but Rick didn't want to take any chances.

He looked at Daryl, who stood with Beth beside the truck they'd brought from the quarry with stones. The younger woman's eyes widened a bit seeing Amanda with them but didn't say anything. Amanda went to her side, and nodded at her.

"Okay—" Rick then told both teams, "You know the drill." He turned to Glenn and Tobin, "Take as much as beam you can. If we can finish it with one time, better. If not, we'll return later." He looked at Daryl, Beth, Michonne, and Scott. Tyreese was up at his feet again and had wanted to come too as Sasha accompanied him. Rick wandered his look above them, "You're with me. We look for food and sanitary supplies."

"We already checked out all the places around the mall—" Michonne said before they separated for the cars, "We need to go somewhere else."

"The only parts we ain't checked yet is the north—" Daryl cut in, giving him a look.

Rick shook his head. "No. We don't go to the north. Landmark Mall—" he said, "We go in again."

Landmark Mall was the biggest—and the closest mall near to Alexandria, and it was also the most useful one for their purpose now as the mall also had a drugstore with a Sears store as its anchor. The mall had been raided countless times now—and walkers were still invaded the place, but still it was the safest—and farthest away from the north.

They still might find some company—but that was always expectable. They knew the mall—they'd gone there a couple of times for supplies, so Rick still assumed it'd be enough.

He nodded at Amanda, walking her to the red car as Daryl and Beth went to Daryl's bike. The others left for the car, no one wanting to share the car with them. Getting in the car, Amanda let out a low snort. "No one's coming with us—" she said, getting in and shook her head, "Should I get affronted?"

Rick shrugged out, "Their loss."

Amanda smiled at him again, and it really felt. Rick pulled the car out of the park and started driving. The roads were deserted per usual aside from a couple of walkers limping around. Somehow the whole experience was relaxing him. It was good—doing this with her. It felt good. His hand at the gear, he nodded at himself as Amanda locked her fingers in front of her, raising her arms and stretched out. "I've really missed this," she stated too, a smile lifting her lips up, "Funny, isn't it?" She shook her head and sighed out— "So much for wanting plain and boring…"

Rick smiled back at her, "Well, I never could believe in it—"

"Guilty as charged."

Shaking his head, Rick reached out and turned on the radio. A low, country music filled in the car, and Amanda started laughing as he raised his hand up away from the gear and started keeping tempo snapping his fingers. Amanda's laughter grew even louder. "Rick Grimes—" she exclaimed, throwing her feet off over the dashboard, "You never cease to amaze a girl."

In answer, he started shaking his head with the rhythm. Amanda raised her own hands up in the air too, going along with him twirling her fingers with the music, and for a moment Rick just wanted to pull aside and throw her at the backseat. This—this was really good. It felt—almost _normal_, a normal couple having a road trip, having fun.

She raised her hips and pulled out a bar from her back pocket and started opening it. They hadn't had any breakfast before they left the house, and dividing it half, Amanda twisted and put the bar into his mouth. Giving her a look, Rick bit it, slightly nipping at her fingers.

She gave out a feign gasp, "_Ouch._"

He gave her a smirk, munching the protein bar. Reaching out to lower the music, Amanda shook her head as her other hand threw the other half into her mouth. "Your music taste is even worse than Lamson," she said conversationally, licking off her thumb and forefinger after she was done with the snack, "He used to find the worst of the worsts while we used to patrol with car….eating donuts, drinking coffee—" and snorted, "…being a damn cliché. Cops."

His eyes skipped at her, the way she'd uttered the word making him think again how she'd become a cop. He knew she'd never been dirty now, but she never looked like she actually had wanted to be one, too. "Amanda," Rick asked then, because they should be able to talk, share—like normal couples, they should, "Why did become a cop?"

Her head twisted at him, "What?"

"I mean—you—you never looked like you were really interested with it."

She heaved out deeply then, "With what?" she asked back, a mocking edge entering into her voice, "Protect the innocent, defend the weak?"

Rick gave her a look in silence.

"Well, I had to be something," she said in answer, "and it wasn't like that I got many options. It was hard to even finish the high school." She paused for a second before she added, "And I like…uniforms, I guess." His eyes skipped at her again after that to see that if it was an innuendo but her face had lost that airy expression as she turned pensive— "The police used to come in the homes sometimes and they looked so…untouchable in uniforms. Guess it stuck with me." She shrugged, running her eyes away, "I don't know."

Something sat in his chest again, making it hard to breathe as he realized why. She—she'd wanted to be untouchable. The more she let slip off her childhood, suspicions grew louder in his mind—she'd claimed before she'd been lucky, had never been abused in any way—stated only got beaten a couple of times, brushing it off offhandedly, but sometimes Rick wondered. Amanda could lie very well when she wanted, usually just didn't bother—but still—

Turning her attention to him, Amanda gave him a look while Rick stared at the road—driving, his eyebrows pulled together with his dark thoughts. "What about you—?" she asked then, "Your grandfather was a soldier. Was your dad, too? Or a cop?"

His eyes skipped at her again, "What made you think that?"

She shrugged, "You got a strong vibe of a family man—emitting out of your every pore—" she paused, "you know…like the father, like the son," she repeated.

But Rick shook his head. "No, he was a carpenter," Rick said, "He taught me wrong and right, what family means. He and grandpa."

Her hand reached out to touch his knee as she leaned toward him, and her voice was soft as she spoke, "They taught you well, Rick."

Rick nodded. "We used to take strolls at our neighborhood while I was a child," he started recounting, "I used to make it with Carl too while he was young. Our road had those trees, those long willows at the curbs. My grandpa had planted them before he died—we used to look at the tall trees, walking hand to hand—me and dad. I remember my grandpa planting them—I'd asked him once why he was doing it—I'd just learned he got cancer. He—he told me he was doing it for me." He paused, "A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they shall never sit, he said," His head twisted to her, "Guess it stuck with me, too. I wanted to make things better, wanted to serve…so my children would have a better place to live in."

Her eyes glistened with something very akin to admiration, Rick noticed glancing at her from the road, "You really should stop telling me stuff like this, Rick." She smiled, "Or else we're gon' have to stop and go back to the backseat."

Giving out a low grunt, Rick rolled off a shoulder, "Well—"

"Rick Grimes!" Amanda exclaimed out, pulling her hand back from his knee.

He reached out for her instead, and smiled back at her, his eyes skidding from the road again, "Well, then, you really should stop looking at me like _that_."

The sudden heavy moment between disintegrating, her eyes turned—salvage, "Hmm…_how_ I should stop looking at you, Sheriff?"

In silence, he only gave her another quick look before his attention turned to the road again. Twisting back at her seat, Amanda followed her example, too, his hand going back to the gear. "We—we make a dinner party soon," she said then, slowly as if weighting her words, "And I—I wear my dress, too."

Rick knew what dress she was talking about. His eyes at the road, Rick nodded, and only said back, "Yes," satisfied.

# # #

This Amanda hadn't missed a lot. Inside the mall, they'd separated again as Rick and she had gone to look for the drugstore as the rest of them had dealt with food. Finding canned goods were becoming so much problematic as the consummation dates were getting expired as more than two years had passed after the turn. Amanda wondered if they could've gotten sick by eating the expired canned food but opted to push the thought as she stabbed a walker in front of her as Rick kept hitting at the locked door's padlock with his short ax.

The frontlines had been already raided, so they knew if they could manage to find anything, it was going to be in the warehouse. Getting inside was being problematic as the door was still locked but Amanda had taken it as a good sign. If it was still locked, then it meant the goods were still inside, untouched.

She killed another walker next to it as the padlock's iron chain finally broke. Opening the door, Rick grabbed her and threw her inside. They closed the door inside as Rick pushed the first shelf he could find against it to block the way.

Amanda started surveying the warehouse immediately. No—not untouched. The shelves had been thrown away—scattered around in a disarray, almost empty. The padlock—it must've been added later by other people to keep anyone less…single-minded than them away.

Rick nodded at her, "You go look for condoms," he told her, "I look for Denise's list."

Amanda nodded back. Denise had prepared a list for Rick—to bring back for her stash if he could manage—antibiotics, vitamins, pills for cold and flue as winter was also coming. The meds were a rare, very expensive commodity in these days, so every little thing counted.

Amanda went to left as Rick dived to right side, and started circled between the shelves, but shook her head a couple of seconds later. The lower parts of the shelves were empty, and she couldn't see a damn thing at the higher shelves. There seemed to be some stuff around, but her eyes couldn't pick them up. She needed a vantage point, a view from above. She wandered her eyes at the metal structure—the whole thing looked like very fragile, some parts of it were already rusting, but well—Amanda always had light feet. It should support her weight…and there was only one way to find out, as well.

Placing her feet on the lowest shelves, she reached out above her head, and pulled herself up, balancing her feet at both sides as the metal faintly cracked and grunted in protest. She stilled for a moment, listening to it…_sensing_ it, then started climbing. It might be one of the dumbest things she had ever done it.

There were five tiers and, first three ones were empty, so she climbed until at the fourth, and twirling her leg over the beam, she perched at the fourth's landing. From there she could see above the fifth and almost all warehouse too.

Her eyes caught Rick at her right side, sweeping around, his hand holding his ax high alert, his face and beard smeared red much like his shirt, and she must be really mad to find him attractive—really attractive even like that. She remembered the way he had been in the car—and how she had felt as he'd talked to her—swooning her insides—making her pathetically wet—and how much she had wanted him to just throw her at the backseat and had his wicked ways until she couldn't help herself but bite him to keep her screams… It'd never been just sex with them—never—but well, sex was always there.

And that pulsing inside her, throbbing with her heartbeat—aching—twisting—itching—was just another reminder about that _fact_—and really, if they didn't do something about it soon—fucked each other senseless, she knew she was going to lose it again.

And this—this was the fucking worst time to get in the heat.

_Well done, idiot,_ she snickered at herself inwardly, shaking her head— "Amanda!"

She almost jumped at where she was perched above the height as Rick ran towards her below at the floor, his head craned up, his eyes widened, stormy, his blue eyes turning almost electrical. Well, shit. "Amanda!" he spat angrily, "What the hell are you doing up there?"

Amanda gave him a tight smile, "Having a bird's eye."

"Get down."

She sighed out, and pointed at the other side of the warehouse, "I'm seeing some stuff over there. We should check it out."

His eyes grew sterner, his neck still craned back, "Amanda, get down. _Now_."

His voice made her tremble, so did the electric in his eyes, her inside twisting—pulsing—and goddammit, he shouldn't be this hot when he was angry—angry for her sake—because he was worried for her safety, putting her in heat further as he fretted over her ass.

The ass he'd grown rather fond of…fretting.

She twisted around and started climbing down and let herself at him when she was at the second tier and fell into his quickly rising arms to catch her up.

His arms were around her as her feet touched at the ground, and she snugged at him closer, rubbed her nose against neck—her nostrils filling in with his odor—sweaty and salty with blood—and so, so crazily manly—and she was so _wet_—so aching—she trembled. "I like when you fret over me…" she mumbled out in his ears, "Like it _very_…"

She took a step even further, closing her eyes and started rubbing at him— "Amanda—"

She silenced him with a kiss—briefly touching at his lips. "Just fuck me—_now_."

For all things good and sacred, she didn't need to do anything else. He pushed her back against the metal frame as his hands started unbuttoning her. It was madness, doing it now—in the middle of a supply run—but well, they'd done madder things than that.

When he finished with her pants, he hoisted her up against the beams, and her legs circled his waist in return as he unzipped himself. He quickly found his way in, she never needed much of foreplay—not with him—she was always wet for him—and started driving her—giving her what she wanted—he always gave her what she wanted—what she needed—always—Her head turned with passion, and her soul flooded with love, she hung on him tightly, her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist as he hoped her in his tight embrace—that was what she wanted right now—being fucked out of her mind—and his baby—always his baby—growing inside her—a piece of him—a piece of this fucking amazing, gorgeous man… "Rick—" she rasped out brokenly between her moans, her tone imploring, "Give me your baby—please—_please_…"

His eyes finding her, he tightened his grip on her and picked up his pace, thrusting in her wildly—and she let it go—just like the day he'd broken her every defenses—she let herself go completely, the flood drowning in—then she knew. He was giving it to her, and she was having it.

She was having her baby.

# # #

At the night, Rick left a few pockets of condoms at the drawer beside Carl's bed. His son's eyes skipped at them, but he stayed in silence. Rick sat beside the bed then, "I know this's hard for you—being young in a world like this—but you still have a full life ahead of you, son."

Carl shook his head, "You don't know that—" he told Rick, but Rick shook his head in answer.

"I do—" he told his son, "Some things don't change no matter what. We love, we hate, we fight, we want… We _feel_. I was very young when I got married, son. I loved your mother, I love _you,_ you—and your sister, you were the only reason why I kept going on this long for a long time, but I became a husband, became a father even before I knew what _I_ was. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did. I want you to find out who you are first, then have your own family and love them more than your own life—protect them against all the world. Your time will come—" he promised his son, "But it's not now."

He leaned forward then and kissed his forehead, holding his neck before he left the room.

When he was back at their room, he slipped in the bed that Amanda was already under the blankets. He snuggled behind her back, holding her tightly against his chest and closed his eyes, going to sleep as she mumbled in her sleep, settling herself in his embrace.

Judith didn't cry for them that night.

# # #

She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen—tall, graceful, and all smiling—smiling at him in her white satin dress, the hems flowing over the steps, her hand holding the railings she slowly descended the staircase, her eyes at him.

Her beautiful bride…her beautiful wife.

Smiling back at her, Rick touched her cheek before he took her in embrace.

# # #

The first snow of the winter fell three weeks later. Rick draped a blanket over her shoulders as they watched the snowing miracle outside standing at the porch and wrapped his arm over her shoulder.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world, she snugged at him closer, her head resting over his shoulder in response, and it was—it was the most natural thing in the world—cocooned in the arms of the man she loved.

It was so peaceful—the night, the air, the snow—twirling softly around them—featherlike, covering everything with a whiteness almost magical, so much for a moment Amanda thought they lived in a beautiful world.

And they lived in a beautiful world, a better world—where miracles could still happen. She smiled warmly as her hand went across her stomach. Her miracle. She'd known it. She'd known it. She'd even felt it.

"Rick—" Twisting her head, she found his eyes, "I—I think I'm two weeks late," she told him with a voice so small even she could barely hear it, "I haven't still bled."

In answer, Rick turned her fully toward him, and kissed her softly as snowflakes twirled around them lazily.

# # #

Two weeks later more, in the morning, she got up from the bed, Rick still sleeping, her stomach coiling, and went to the bathroom. When she lowered her panties, she saw blood over her underwear.

Collapsing on the cold tiles, she cried out with a long wail, tears following.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Yeah, I feel bad myself, too, but again this is Walking Dead. If Amanda would've managed to get pregnant, they might've been...happy, gods forbid it!_

_The quote from the summary, what Rick's grandpa had told him, about society and planting trees for children is a Greek proverb, according to Google, but I heard it at After Life, which is amazing show, just saw it last week. It just stuck with me, too, and thought a memory like that would be Rick's drive for being the officer friendly. And I also like imagining them a string of good family men-his grandpa, his father, then him, then Carl...like the father, like the son, each man making strolls with his son. In canon I couldn't find anything about Rick's father's job, and I wanted him to be something that would use his hands, building something-carpenter just seemed fine._

_So, I think I'm all settled now-could actually start with the plot-as things will get heated up with the next chapter._

Like always, reviews are love. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think! Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

At the morning of the night that the first snow had fallen, Amanda watched the pale winter sunlight slip through the cracks of the shutters, twirling with dust in the room and tried to relax herself in Rick's embrace. Despite the miraculous feeling of the last night, her sleep had been restless, her dreams disturbed even though she couldn't remember them now. With her right hand, she touched her stomach. It was there—her little miracle, her little hope it must be there—she'd felt it, but what if her longing, her yearnings were playing with her mind. She didn't know. Not really. The only thing she knew was that she was two weeks late, hardly a fact. Denise had already warned her cycle might be disorganized because of her ordeals. The doctor had been even surprised that she had started menstruating this quickly—perhaps being late was normal.

Perhaps she wasn't really pregnant.

She shouldn't have told Rick. If she wasn't pregnant, he was going to be feel bad, too. He'd been already having a hell—she'd been putting him so much in shit—She let out a low sigh, and slowly turned around on the bed, slipping away from his arms carefully so she wouldn't disturb his sleep. She stared at the ceiling. Maybe she just should've done a pregnancy test first. The problem was with that the tests were unreliable in the first weeks of pregnancy. It must be at least a full month, even then hey weren't always reliable as well. But the last night had been so good, the snow, the peace, the tranquility—the love, the serenity she had felt—she just couldn't help herself.

Her hand found her stomach again…

And what if it was—what if she was really pregnant... How it would be then? Would she manage this time? She couldn't have held it the first time—lost her baby with only a kick…perhaps, perhaps something was wrong with her from the start and the kick had just quickened the process? And that _wrong_ thing maybe was still with her. How she would know? She cursed herself in silence, mulling over the all time she'd gone to gynecologist for periodic controls but had never ever checked herself even for once for her fertility. She was in her thirty-one now. Before the world had turned mad, she'd never thought of her life being like this—imagining herself wanting a baby—the concept had been so foreign to her. She couldn't have taken any crying baby—the old feeling of helplessness she used to feel, and she felt it returning to her again with the uncertainty—with not knowing—_not_ being in control, and she also knew she should stop thinking now before she went into another crisis…

She shook her head, frustrated. Maybe they were right about her. Maybe she really needed meds, maybe she was really neurotic, couldn't function properly. She always knew she was fucked up, but after everything… it was getting so much harder to deal with it, and she tried not to dwell on the fact how better she used to manage to keep it together when things had been so much in shit.

She really stopped thinking now.

Rick threw his arm across her suddenly, skipping at her side, his face pressed at the pillow. "Baby—don't—" he murmured at her, his eyes still closed, "I can almost hear you thinking."

She heaved out a deep sigh. "I—I was just thinking I should stop thinking."

His eyes cracked open, and looking at her, he faintly chuckled out. "Sounds like you."

"Yeah…" She turned her head to him, "Rick—do you—do you think we should make a test?" she asked then, "I mean—perhaps I'm just being late. We don't know if I'm truly pregnant."

He gave her a look, but shook his head, "Amanda, baby, you know tests can't be trusted this early. We have to wait."

She grimaced, "I hate waiting."

She fucking hated it! All this ambiguity, uncertainty, vagueness! Guessing. Hoping. Waiting. She had to know. She needed facts. "Amanda, sometimes you just have to wait," Rick told her, rising on his elbow to look at her better.

She looked back at him. "And what if I'm not pregnant?" she asked then.

"Then we'll try again—" He leaned to kiss her, "And again—" His lips brushed the corner of her mouth, "and again—and again—"

And it was the fucking worst idea she'd ever heard all in her life! Spending the rest of her life like this…? "Well—I don't know you, Rick, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life tucking a pillow under my ass after each time we have sex!" She pushed him off her, frowning, "And don't talk to me like a baby! I'm not an idiot." She hit his chest accusingly, "You're trying to soothe me down!"

In answer, Rick only came back at her again and started tickling her—actually tickled her. "RICK!" she gasped out with a scream—her body reacting as his fingers played across her stomach and her sides.

"But you _are _a baby—" He laughed at her as she raised her legs towards her chest on reflex, "You are my big, fretting, peevish baby. Sometimes I can't decide which are you worst—" he continued as she tried to run away from his hands as he mounted across her hips, and pinned her down completely, "You or Judith…"

She gasped out breathless, laughter falling out of her, her hands trying to push him off her, "Rick—stop—" She let out a wail of laughter, "No—no—"

He leaned down, catching her wrists, and raised her hands above her head, "Besides, someone gotta pat your quills down, Officer."

His lips found hers then, and for a while Amanda forgot everything else in the world.

# # #

Well, Amanda had to admit; Sheriff Grimes knew damn well how to pat her quills down. She stood up from bed, moments later after he had left the house. It was still snowing outside, but the climate was still enough warm, not as biting as dry cold, sun still around.

Amanda pulled out the shutters and let the light come in completely, basking in it, her lips pulling out on its own. It was a good day. It was still so beautiful outside. . She could take out Judith for a stroll. The baby would like it, too. They could play snowball, would make snow angels at the backyard. The baby wouldn't know, well, but Amanda wanted to do it with her. Maybe even Carl would come with them and play. They could take Beth and Sam, too. Perhaps Rick and Daryl would come too, then… A big, happy family…

She paused, feeling it again. She really wanted Beth and Daryl to live with them…like…in the movies at Christmas. Her breath stopped, and she wondered when it might be Christmas again…keeping track of time had been difficult after the turn, but Deanne had started her own calendar and Amanda had been using it. She knew they must be in December, they'd arrived at Alexandria around the late fall, but well, the rest they were going to improvise.

Rick was going to have to go another supply run. They had to have a Christmas tree. _She_ wanted a Christmas tree.

Putting on her robe, she walked out of the room and went to check Judith. The baby was still sleeping. Carl had already left the house, too, so, she went downstairs and took the book she had been reading the last, historical places in Virginia. She'd found the book at the library, and decided to search through it. Knowledge was the best tool, and every community had a collective mind, written in the minds generations after generation, and people always followed patterns. If they ever wanted to find other communities after they got back to their feet and be ready to expand like how Deanne had envisioned, Amanda felt the places in the history books would be the best places to start looking for.

And Hilltop must be one of those places, a place people had taken refuge after things had turned to a freak show. And Hilltop had a gynecologist, and Amanda was getting the idea whether she was pregnant or not, they would need to have one as people always got intimate with each other, really trying to a build a better life. A future.

Even Daryl had started thinking about that then they definitely needed a doctor. Not only for her, but for everyone. In the old days, a lot of women used to die in childbirth and things had worsened for them even than those times now.

The best known place was of course George Washington's estate, Mount Vernon, as Alexandria, Virginia was also the founding father's hometown, a fact also made things harder for them now because Amanda had listed more than hundred mansions, museums, and national parks just in the city. There were Carlyle House, the home of the city's founder, and Smithsonian National Museum that Reg and Rick had wanted them to go to explore, Alexandre the Black History Museum, Gunston Hall, Barrington House, Lee-Fendall House, Gadsby's Tavern…the list went on forever.

After the winter…after the winter they could go and check. Until then their outer wall would be finished, Rick still had them working on it even in the snow, and she would be at least three months pregnant. There was still time. They just needed to define the priorities, prepare an action plan, and a walk through procedure for the first contact. Recon, gather intelligence, determine they were hostile or not, then the first contact. Aaron had been doing it all alone, but Amanda would like things become a bit more professional now.

From the baby monitor, Amanda saw Judith started tossing in the bed playfully. Amanda stood up and started climbing up before the baby girl started crying. She'd been getting better, had stopped crying in the nights that much, but still when she saw herself alone in the mornings, she started crying.

For her mommy.

She smiled at herself with content, opening the door. Like always, the baby raised her arms up seeing her at the doorstep, making baby noises. Amanda wondered when she was going to start talking…and what she was going to say first… "Hey there, darlin'—you couldn't believe what happened last night—" she told the baby, taking her in her arms lifting from the cot, leaning over the railings, "We have snow! Bet it's your first time—" She gave the baby a look with a smile, "Never seen snow before, right?"

In answer, Judith turned her head around, looking at the room, "Yeah—let's get you fed first," she told the baby back, walking out of the room, "Then we go out to play."

Half of an hour later, they were outside, walking in the snow. It'd almost stopped now—but sun was even brighter so she knew it would start anew soon. But now it was perfect. "Amazing, isn't it?" she asked Judith, giving her a light kiss at the cheek under her big hoodie, "Almost magical."

All Alexandria was covered under a whiteness, like in postcards that she had used to dream in her childhood—wondering how it would have been living in a house like that—and it felt another of her dreams had come true again. Her insides flip-flopping with happiness, she went to find Beth. Maybe they would bake those gingerbread cookies. Beth would know how. They'd prepared a notebook for Amanda before, for the recipes Amanda had wanted to try. She—enjoyed cooking. It came to her good, winding her down. She had no idea why, it just did. She hated all other house chores, dusting, washing, cleaning—but cooking, she really liked it. There was something almost therapeutic with it.

She found Beth with Rosita and Tara at the infirmary. Tara had started a lot of time at the infirmary after she got checked out, Amanda had noticed. They were getting _very_ close with Denise, but Rosita had a stern expression over her face as she sat one of the beds, and she knew the reason, as well.

"Hey—" she greeted them walking in, her eyes at Rosita, and Beth walked to her.

"Abraham—" Beth whispered at her, "They broke up last night."

Amanda felt sad, but tried not think how it would feel like—seeing the man you loved with another woman—because she knew if Abraham had finally finished things with Rosita then soon he was going to start with Sasha. She wanted to bash at the ex-soldier's head for being an asshole, but she could hardly force anyone to be with someone. And romantic entanglements always had that risk, and she remembered the way she had felt when Rick and her had broken up—and for a moment felt panic—perhaps if they hadn't gotten together back, she would've been like Rosita right now, too, having to see the man she loved with another woman as Rick perhaps would have gotten closer with Michonne.

She visibly shuddered at the thought, but pushed it away—Rick loved her—even if they hadn't gotten back together, he couldn't have gone and found himself another woman… no…he wouldn't—would have?

No. Rick wasn't like that. He'd taken him years getting over the death of his ex-wife—and if she hadn't gone back to him, Rick would've just wandered around either sulking or being a general asshole, biting off heads, and somehow the notion relaxed her—She heaved out a sigh, and turned to Beth. "I'm taking a stroll with Judith outside. Will show her snow. Wanna come?"

Beth nodded eagerly. "Yeah, sure."

As they left the infirmary, Amanda laughed softly. "Bad, huh?"

"Rosita is bitchy," Beth said back.

Amanda nodded. "She's a right to be," she said, "Abraham wouldn't have lingered things this long. I talked to him once, but he just shooed me away. He waited until he got sure with Sasha—" She grimaced, "Asshole monkey."

"I think Rosita still loves him—" Beth slowly remarked.

"Yeah—" Amanda paused, "I hope they can keep it…civil. I still depend on them working together with Militia," she continued as they walked at the back parts of the town "We still need to put these people into the shape." That was the problem with relationships, when you crossed that line with anyone, it was hard to fall back—things being the way it was. When she had broken things off with Michael, things had been easier—they just had stopped talking—and he found himself other pro-bono cases—never seen each other again—and Amanda always believed it was the best. She could never understand how people could be friends after sharing that much with someone. Not that she had ever had many friends at the first place—most of her life, friends just come and go— She turned and looked at the first and truest friend.

"So how's things with you?" she asked, feeling suddenly the worst friend ever. They always talked about _her_ problems now… "Good?" she continued, "Sam looks better too."

Beth nodded. Sam was living in their former room now, living with Beth and Daryl after the death of Jessie and his brother as Spencer had gotten into his old house when they had moved into Deanne's. Beth nodded. "Yeah… He went hunting with Daryl this morning. Carol wants to make a casserole. Daryl promised her meat."

She smiled. It was getting harder to find any game in the woods in the winter, but Daryl was still trying. With their numbers, it was even harder but if Daryl wasn't there, they could possibly never eat meat now. The cold storage of the pantry had demolished at the attacks, so they had had to eat whole meat months ago. In the winter with the cold, storage could be easier.

Amanda lowered Judith on the ground and held her hands, trying to get the baby walk in the show. "Daryl had a talk with Rick a few weeks ago," she started then, lifting her eyes at the younger woman, searching, "Have you—?"

Running her eyes away, Beth nodded, "Yeah."

"And—?" Amanda prompted further.

Shrugging a shoulder off, Beth bent down and fisted her hands in the snow and made a snowball. "I don't know—" she then admitted, turning her hands around her ball, "I—I'm just surprised he...thought about it."

Amanda smiled. "We're all getting a life, right?" she told her back, "Remember what you told me before? We should get a real life—" she reminded the younger woman her own words, still holding Judith's hands up from behind, walking behind her, "This _is_ a life, we're getting to living part. Don't—don't you want a baby too?" She paused, "I always thought you'd be a great mom."

"I do—I really do—" she admitted, too, "It's just—" she faltered, giving her a look, as if she wasn't sure how she could continue.

Amanda shook her head. "You don't have to tiptoe around me, Beth. It's okay. I can understand it. You're afraid," she told her, "I was too. I'm still."

Beth threw the snowball away. "My father once said every breath we take is a risk now, but we should decide how to live—"

Amanda nodded. "Your father—he sounds like a great man, Beth."

A couple of times Rick had mentioned him too, and there had been a respect in his tone as Rick spoke, something Amanda hadn't seen many times. Beth nodded back, "Yeah… I—I thought before he died, before the prison fell we could've still had birthdays and holidays, and summer picnics."

Amanda laughed, "Hey, we had a wedding—" She paused, and corrected remembering their own dinner party, too, "Two weddings, actually."

Slowly, Beth smiled back at her, "Well, we had, didn't we?"

Amanda crouched down between Judith's feet as the baby fell down and started playing with snow. Amanda wondered for a moment if she would get wet but then let her play for a while. "We could still find that colony," she said, pushing her hands down in the snow too to make a ball, "They've got a gynecologist."

Judith cried out excited when Amanda gave her the snowball she made. "Do you really think we could find Hilltop?"

She nodded, ascertain. "Don't worry, I'm working on it."

Beth still gave her a look in suspicion, "But Rick would let us go even if you find them?"

She shrugged, and gave the younger woman a smile back, "As I said, Beth, I'm working on it."

Beth shook her head and they saw Sam walk through the gate, alone, a few squirrels in his hands. Amanda smiled, "Well, looks like Carol has meat tonight for her casserole."

"Where's Daryl?" Beth asked when the young boy stopped beside them.

"He stayed outside with Rick at the wall," Sam answered, "Told me bring you to these." He paused, "I used the bow today."

"Great—" Beth said approvingly, leaning down to muffle his hair, "Let's get you back inside. Are you cold?"

Sam shook his head, "No. Can I play with Judith?"

Amanda gave the young boy a look. "She's getting cold, and you need to get cleaned up. We go back and come out later, 'kay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sam quickly obliged. The young boy was still having distance between him and Rick, but he liked Judith. Beth patted him, "Now, off you go find Carol. She's waiting the squirrels."

Sam started running toward the house, and Amanda laughed, and looked at Beth, "He's really getting better."

Beth nodded as Amanda stood up, taking up Judith back to her arms, "Come for dinner tonight."

She nodded back with a "Will do," and started coming back to the house. Carl and Enid were playing out in the show, too, a snowball fight, and Amanda walked beside them as Carl hit at her with one. "_Ouch_," she shot at them, laughing.

Carl grinned at her. She went inside and changed back Judith's clothes again, and putting her into sleep again, she returned to study room. As they were going to eat—out tonight, she decided she could work more. She rested over the couch, pulling the blanket over her, placing the baby monitor at the coffee table and started reading her book.

Half an hour, at the Barrington House—she stopped dead—then jolted up at her feet, tumbling down the heavy book toward the floor and rushed out to the door.

"Amanda—?" Carl asked her, seeing her running out of the door.

"Judith's sleeping. Look after her. I'm coming."

Before she reached out to the gate, she realized she hadn't put on her jacket. Maggie was the gate duty, and she gave Amanda a look before Amanda didn't stop just motioned at her to open the gate. Running out, she found Rick at the construction site with Tobin and Daryl, managing the beams.

"Amanda!" he walked hurriedly to her, seeing her, "What—" he started, his eyes on her, understanding was going on at the first sight.

"I found it—" Amanda declared then, "I know where Hilltop is."

# # #

It was a small side footnote at the bottom of the page. "_Standing at the top of the hill," _Rick read it inside, _"The house usually called as Hilltop Manor by the locals."_

He stared at the red brick mansion at the book, the Barrington House. Her face set in determined, Amanda tapped her finger on the picture, "It has to be, Rick. It has to."

Rick let out a sigh, "Amanda—"

She cut him off, "We have to go there, Rick—" she told him, "We have to." That was what he'd been scared off, since the time they'd had talk months ago after the first time they'd questioned Dwight and Cherry. It'd been hard to convince her the otherwise, Amanda had a very soft heart deep down she usually hid very well, but Rick knew it disturbed her, doing nothing, and she _hated_ waiting. She had even called maybe as fate, their fate, but Rick still didn't know about it. He knew they couldn't risk it. Amanda, though, had the same look in her eyes now, and now that she managed to discover where the colony, Rick wondered what would take her to convince again otherwise. "It's _not_ just me," she continued, "I talked with Beth today. She wants a baby, too, but she's afraid. _Everyone_ wants to move on, Rick, everyone want to have a _real_ life, but they're afraid. We have to find that doctor."

Rick shook his head. They just could not. They weren't ready yet. "And how we would be sure if they'd want to help us?" he questioned. They knew nothing about those people. Maybe inside those walls there was another Governor. He couldn't risk that. Not again.

"We make a recon first," she shot back quickly; "I'm not saying we go blind." She paused, "And they're oppressed and terrorized by bullies. If we help them, maybe we can form an alliance."

"Or maybe they just sell us out to fall in Sanctuary's good graces," Rick returned.

Amanda let out a frustrated grunt, "You're paranoid."

"Am _I_ paranoid?" He asked her back, bowing his head, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He was getting another headache. All this talk was getting at him. "What I told you before, Amanda…" he uttered with the same frustration, "About people who live in glass houses and throwing stones, remember?" She opened her mouth for a comeback, but Rick quickly went on, lifting his head, "Being paranoid doesn't mean being wrong—" he remarked, and walked closer to her, "I don't want you to worry yourself but I never said you were wrong about what you worry."

She threw her hands in the air, "That's the single stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Rick merely stared at her, "So you say you don't want me to worry about stuff that I _should_ worry."

Rick caught her at her upper arms. She had to understand… He couldn't let it—he couldn't let anything happen to her…even the thought of her harmed was enough to drop him on knees, thinking her in childbirth…but this—this was too much. People still measured you by what they could take from you, and he couldn't let them. Not again. Never again. "Amanda, listen to me," he said then, "You may be right. I may be right. We don't know. We can't risk it. I saw those people. If they learned about us, it means war. We can't kneel, and they would not leave us alone. Sometimes you just can't live together. I—I lost the prison, Amanda. I can't lose Alexandria, too," he admitted, his eyes heavy on hers, "We have to be reasonable."

His words finally got her subsided, but she looked at him, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "But—what if—what if there's something wrong with me, Rick?" she asked, "What if—I'm really pregnant, but will lose the baby again?"

He shook his head firmly. "It won't happen—" he assured her, taking her in his embrace, "Baby, it won't," and repeated, praying for the first time in long years after Carl got shot.

# # #

Two weeks later, Amanda woke up with something coiling in her stomach. Slowly, she padded to the bathroom and saw the redness over her underwear.

With a wail, she collapsed on the ground.

It happened. _Of course,_ it happened.

# # #

Her stomach was still coiling, but everything else felt—fine. There was no tear left in her to shed but she felt…_fine_. "What's wrong?" she asked Denise, even though she already knew the answer. There was no knife cutting her in half, no—just a tightness, a stomachache, but she had to know.

She just had to hear it from the doctor.

"I—I don't think anything's wrong," so the doctor told her, just like she'd expected, "It looks like you're just having your period."

Amanda started laughing.

_Of course._

# # #

Later in the night, back in their room, she sat in the room, and took her head between her hands, bowing her head. "I can't do this anymore, I can't…" she muttered out. She couldn't. She had no power left in her.

"Amanda—"

Springing back to her feet, she yelled at him, "_Don't_ Amanda at me!" She gestured with her hands, "I have to know. I can't live this! I have to know what's wrong with me."

"Amanda, sometimes it just takes time—" he started, but she cut him off again.

"Don't patronize me! Don't talk I'm stupid!" she shouted at him again, "You know what I mean!" She let out a sigh, shaking her head, "I can't take this anymore. We don't know a damn thing and I have to know. I need _facts_." She walked to him, "Listen to me, I love you, and I love Judith as my own. If—if there's really something wrong with me—and—and I can't have children—then—fine. I'll accept it. I'll cry first, throw fits, make your life a living hell for a while, but at the end I'll accept it. I know myself, I will. I'll mourn and move on. But this—" she waved her hand back at the bed, "All this—waiting—uncertainty…" She shook her head again—trying to find the words—how she could tell him—how she could make him understand how it felt—Rick had never had to live through it… "At Deanne's eulogy, you said as long as there's life, there's also hope—" she told him then, "and hope is killing me, Rick—each night—a part of me dying inside. It's torture!"

Rick walked closer to her, his arms rising to take her in his embrace, "Amanda, baby, I know—I know how you feel—"

She shook her head furiously, and stepped back, "No—no, you don't!" she raised her voice a tone up again, "You think you do, but you don't. You _can't_." She looked at him sternly, "Has anyone told you as a child you're beautiful and you got scared, Rick? Have you ever lay in your bed and listened to footstep in the dark—wishing to hear heels clinking so you would know whoever behind the door wouldn't care if you hear him walking by…" He was in silence now—looking at her back, and she knew she had to stop—she had to keep the poisonous words inside her, where they belonged—he didn't need to hear them—she didn't want anyone hear them…but somehow she just couldn't help herself either, as if she was drowning over again—and the words were just flooding out of her mouth… "Have you ever lay in your bed waiting something bad happen to you, Rick, so long, _so_ fucking long one day you actually found yourself wishing it would've happened just so then you could be free of it, free of all that waiting—!" She heaved out a deeply, shaking her head, and laughed bitterly, "Because that's _how_ I feel. I just want it done now, Rick," she said, and repeated, "I can't live like this. I can't. I have to know. I have to find that doctor." She let out another deep sigh, and announced, "I'm going to Hilltop. You can't stop me. Those men can't stop me. Nothing in this world can stop me."

Still looking at her back, Rick finally nodded. "I know."

She swallowed, and asked him back, "Will—will you come with me?"

In answer, he took a step forward and his hands held her shoulder tightly, his fingers digging into her skin, "Amanda, listen to me—listen to me truly-" he told her then, his eyes riveted on hers, "Wherever you go, _I_ go. I can't change the past, I wish I could, but no man can. But—never—never in your life you will be alone again." She closed her eyes as his arms wrapped her, "Baby, you will always have me," and he whispered at her ear before she hugged him back, "I promise."

* * *

_Yay, finally I'm done with this part of plot as we can go out for looking for Hilltop._

_All those names Amanda searched through are actual places in Alexandria, Virginia, like Hilltop, I googled._

_I also felt very accomplished that I got Rick tickle Amanda, he he. I wanted him to do that for a long while-feels nice._

_And I'm sorry, some of you possibly want to see her pregnant, but for me it's always about the journey itself, not the destination-and Amanda's journey is a bit bumpy. Frankly, I'm more interested in portraying a woman who wants to be a mother in that world but having problems, then struggling with it than a woman just getting pregnant, especially if that woman has such big insecurities like Amanda, and her desire for a baby is almost obsessive. She's poured herself out to Rick, and I wanted that, too._

_Hope you're still with me!_

_Cheers._


	5. Chapter 5

V.

In the study, Rick looked at the council they'd decided to have last month for the constitution and general governing. Aside him and Amanda, four other people were elected in the assembly they'd had; Father Gabriel, Spencer, Glenn and Tobin. At first, he'd been surprised with the results, but after a time it made sense. The pastor had become a sort of spiritual war hero from a coward with a survival skill after he'd inspired other people to fight with them after Deanne's talk, Spencer was the usual opposition for everyone who wasn't content with him and his methods, and like always, Glenn and Tobin was the common sense.

They were waiting him to talk as he'd called them in for a meeting, but Rick wasn't still sure where he could begin—this was—this was going to be hard, but then he decided to start from the beginning, "Amanda found the whereabouts of Hilltop, the colony Dwight and Cherry mentioned before—" he announced finally after a last look, "It's the Barrington House, twenty miles from here at north."

They all looked at him in bafflement. His voice had come out calm, but every each of them knew the meaning of his words as _he_ was the one who had uttered them. His stomach was twisted up like a barbed wired. He was wired up, but it did matter not. Amanda needed this, she needed to know, and Rick always gave her whatever she needed.

Always.

It was simple as that, too.

If he could—he would, he would've helped her, assured her, told her everything was going to be okay, told her they were going to have another baby again, but she'd been right. It was killing her; _hope_ was torturing her, killing her. Since the morning her words were in a loop in his mind, the way she had poured out herself in defeat—and how he wished he could've really helped her, made her forget those days, but he couldn't do it—not all the time—maybe only for a while—when everything was silent, snow twirling around them softly, and when he kissed her with the same softness in his arms—then maybe he could make her forget her demons in the night for a while but at the morning they would find her again.

He couldn't stop it—no one could stop it, so instead Rick was just going to do this. He was going to fight them with her. She could never be alone again—never waiting something bad happen to her, wishing it would happen just so she could get over it and move on. He'd always wondered of the easiness she'd moved on over the fact he'd tried to strangle her, stating that they didn't have the luxury of keeping grudges forever anymore, but now Rick understood better. She'd realized she couldn't do it alone, and just accepted the bad thing, then moved on.

And Rick couldn't help but wonder what _other_ bad things she'd moved on the same—she had said she hadn't been abused but what if she'd been really lying? The dread and suspicion were like a stone in his stomach—the uncertainty—imaging a small Amanda laying in her bed—listening to catch footsteps outside her door and what if they'd come in? Even the thought of it was making the beast inside him hurl with fury, his teeth grating—and he wanted—he wanted to sink them into those assholes' neck—rip them apart—in his mind, that vile man's taunting voice sneering—_what the hell you gonna do now, sport?_

What he would do now? If they were here now, he could've hurt them badly, very _very_ badly, but he couldn't fight with the ghosts of the past. He couldn't change the past. He wasn't even sure if something had really happened, and questioning Amanda for _that_—asking her if she'd been abused or worse raped as a child… He shook his head. Not knowing was killing him now too—but he couldn't do it, couldn't open that can of worms, some demons should be left where they belonged to… In the past. They had a future together, but the past was past. Rick was going to make sure she would never be alone again, never would feel like that again. Because now she got him, always.

His eyes wandering over the round dinner table they'd brought from the dinner room, fell on hers. She looked collected now as she'd cleared her directive again, her face decisive set. _Nothing in this world can stop me…_ she'd said, and Rick knew she hadn't been exaggeration. Amanda had never been in bold actions, she was always as wary as a wild animal but when she put something in her mind, there was no going back for her, she prepared herself to see until the very end, never give up.

"We have reasons to believe they might be friendly," Rick continued, and stated with a firm voice, "so we're going to check out."

Expectedly, Spencer was the first one to object, "What kind of reasons?" he asked back quickly.

Rick stopped for a moment, trying to think—and didn't like what he found… He frowned. He didn't have any real reason to assume them they would be friendly, they only had wishes now. Then he felt it again…this—this was a mistake. They shouldn't do this—they still weren't ready. He remembered Governor, remembered all the other shit they'd come across since the turn… but Amanda's voice talked in his mind again—_You can't stop me. Those men can't stop me. Nothing in this world can stop me… _

Rick stared at Spencer. The younger man shook his head, "You always tell us we should be wary of outsiders," the last Monroe said, leaning down over the table, "You didn't let my mother send Aaron and Daryl out to look for other people," he continued, highly skeptical, his eyebrow rising, "What changed now?"

A lot of things—lots of things had changed—but Spencer was right too—and Rick—goddammit!

This—this was a mistake, he knew, but he was still going to do it. Because Amanda needed this, but before he could speak up, Amanda cut in, "We're low on supplies—and winter is here," she said, "It's safer out there in winter, no one in their right mind would look for trouble in this weather, but things are also getting harder. If we manage to come to an understanding with those people—we can start an alliance," she explained, and it didn't sound good even to his ears.

Spencer turned to him, "And are _you_ okay with that?" he asked, shaking his head, "Really?"

Father Gabriel shook his head, "I think it's got potential—" he remarked, "Deanna wanted us to find other people and bring them together—" he turned to Spencer, "I thought you wanted that, too," the pastor stated, "You wanted to start expanding, too."

In answer, Spencer shook his head back at him, "I did, always, but he—" he turned Rick, "He never… so I think we deserve to know this change of heart now."

So, yeah, Rick thought the younger man had a point. So…whatever… "Cherry said Hilltop has got a gynecologist," he said the truth as Amanda turned to him, her eyes widening, "Amanda wants to find the man."

Spencer laughed out in disbelief, "You got balls, man, you got balls!" He shook his head, and glared at Rick, "So you want us to go out now because your wife couldn't get knocked up, really?"

"I want us go because she's got a point," Rick shot back, because despite everything else Amanda also got a fair point there.

They needed a doctor, a doctor who knew what he was doing. Denise was good with wounds, and cuts, and general stuff, but she wasn't a surgeon, and she wasn't definitely a gynecologist either. Things had been going well with them, and come the winter, they'd gone into a further relaxed mood—settling in—things might be harder—but they all were having a life—and people were getting closer and closer—and most of times there was nothing else to do—but—well, be with each other. Rick supposed it was natural, it was humane, Daryl had started questioned it, hell even Carl had wanted it. Soon, they were going to have pregnant women around—either planned or accidentally, but they were going to have them, Rick knew.

"It's not only us," so he told them Amanda's words, trying to explain, "We're settling down—people having a life—being together. We need to take some—cautions."

Glenn nodded, coming to his help, "Rick is right. Maggie and I—we talked about it too," he said, "I—I'd like to have a doctor seeing her, as well."

Rick nodded, just he'd expected. They _weren't_ the only ones. "We're not forgetting the threat, Spencer," Amanda continued explaining, "We're not stupid. We'll do recon first, see them with our own eyes before we do anything else."

"We check it—see what kind of people they truly are," Rick took it from she'd finished, laying out the plan, "I'm thinking to take one of them in for questioning so we could figure out things better, so then we could breach out the contact with one of theirs too." He paused, "If we could convince him we mean no harm, it'd be easier."

"How can you convince someone you're good after you kidnapped him?" Tobin asked, frowning.

Rick shrugged, "If he's smart, he'd understand," he said, "and if he's stupid, I have no business with him then."

"What about that outpost?" Glenn asked, "What if they ask help from them?"

Rick's jaw clenched. They had many reasons not to go, not to risk it, but a few reasons to do it. The fact was he didn't want another Governor situation to happen, but Hilltop was only twenty miles away from Alexandria whereas Sanctuary was fifty. Negan and his people were expanding. Perhaps soon they would even find Alexandria on their own. It was the same a rock and hard place he found himself stuck into—but Amanda couldn't take this anymore—it was killing her—each time a piece of her was killing inside her with hope and damn him to hell and back if he let that happen to her again—as she was lying beside him in their bed. _Never_.

Bowing his head, Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache coming again but Amanda answered Glenn's question in his stead.

"Why they would if they believe we're friends?" she asked back, "Those people are taking half of everything they have. If they're smart, they would want to listen to us first."

Rick stood up. He wasn't a tyrant, but he was still the leader of this community, and he'd made his decision. Better or worse, he had. "I know we have many reasons not to go, and only a few to go but we're still going. The doctor isn't the only priority. Hilltop is only twenty miles away from us. Sanctuary is expanding," he told them sternly, "Even if we do nothing, they still could find us after the winter. And I'd like to have some—friends at our back if that time ever comes."

Spencer, though, still shook his head, looking at him, and stood up, too, "That was always a risk, but you never wanted to take it before…" he remarked, and asked, his dark brown eyes fixated at his, "If it wasn't _her_—if it wasn't your wife needing that doctor, would've said yes to this?"

Rick stayed in silence, because in truth no, he would have not. He would've never risked it. His silence was enough answer for anyone in the room. Spencer stood up, too, and walked to the door, shaking his head. "Hypocrisy is a rather short road to walk on in these days, isn't it?" the younger man sneered out dryly, and Rick didn't find in himself to oppose him.

# # #

Later in the night, Amanda lay over across Rick's chest, his arms wrapped around her torso, both sharing the silence, last words of Spencer Monroe twisting—tightening something in her chest.

Hypocrites… Amanda felt like a damn one, forcing Rick into to do this—just because she couldn't do this anymore—she always knew herself, had never had any qualms with accepting herself for what she was, too, and she always knew she was a selfish woman—always—then why everything felt wrong in her now— If…if things went wrong— she stopped the thought. She'd been so certain when she'd said she was going to find that doctor, she had been…but what if she was making a mistake…could she…could she live with herself then?

Suddenly she knew the answer. "Rick—" she called out at him then, lifting her eyes up at him from where her head rested at his chest, "We—we don't need to risk it—" she said as he tipped his head down and his eyes found hers, too, "I—I'll try to live with it. I'll—deal with it—" She paused and swallowed out a lump through her tight throat, "I—I can start taking meds, too. I—" She paused again, "We—we don't have to do it."

Still looking at her, Rick shook his head, though. "No. We do it," he told her, his eyes turning sterner, glinting, "I won't have you like that anymore, torturing yourself." She trembled with the intensity of his tone and his look, his arms tightening around her further, "I won't. Beth's father once told every breath we take is a risk, and he was right. Every decision we take is a risk now, staying here or going to find them—different levels, but they all have a risk. But it matters not. Between the two, I know what I _can't_ risk." His eyes turned even more firm, "I can't risk _you_, Amanda. You said you have to know it, you have to find that doctor. Then we _will_ find him."

A part of her knew it was selfish, too, him—he was being selfish, as well, putting her before the common good of the community, and she wished she could've said it didn't turn her head, didn't make her melt, didn't make her—feel—unique—and she still knew it was selfish, but she just couldn't open her mouth and tell him otherwise, because the other part of her was basking in it—knowing that nothing mattered more to Rick than his family. So, she just reached out and touched at his bearded cheek, and said, "I love you."

"And I love you, too," he only said back.

# # #

Much like its nickname, the Barrington House was standing at the top of the hill of which's gentle slope at the west side ended with a small pasture where Rick saw a few sheep slowly wander in the meadows. Four guards with spears were walking around them as a dog stayed behind, protecting the precious animals.

They'd started rising their own livestock. They had left the cars before they came to the mansion, and had taken the rest of road on feet, sweeping the ground. The mansion seemed to have a clear vision of every direction standing tall, but Rick knew they could never see them in a deep cover like this.

The town had a palisade, circling around the perimeters with long wooden poles. It'd taken a look for Rick to understand what those people inside had built—something like a motte-and-bailey castle. Rick was—impressed. It would've taken a great effort and hardship to build something like this, even managing a livestock, and Rick wondered if they had a constructor or an architect like Reg who help them, and what would take it to get the man or woman to help them, as well. This—this all looked very good, because with his binocular, he'd also spied the wall from the ditch they'd taken cover, and saw the guards, patrolling along the wooden wall, likewise the people who were out there in the pasture, only with spears. They didn't have guns.

Crawling back to his people a hundred feet away, Rick nodded, "They don't have guns."

They had two teams of four; Daryl and Beth had accompanied them, and Glenn, Abraham, Aaron had been scouting the perimeters. Amanda had wanted to bring both Beth and Aaron, to balance Daryl, Abraham, and his vicious exterior for trouble, and as she and Glenn might be taken for the common sense. Rick hadn't minded, and Daryl for once hadn't opposed Beth's involvement. His eyes moving away from them found Amanda.

She looked…determined once again. After the last night, after she'd told him they shouldn't needed to do it for her sake, Rick had sort of waited another try from her in the morning, but it didn't come. Her moment of self-questioning was done. He couldn't do it—he couldn't take seeing her like this—last night images had flashed in his mind—the way she'd been after the miscarriage. No, he didn't want to see her like that, trying to holding up herself—and the way he'd found her passed out drunk. No. At that moment, he'd understood—he didn't want to see her drugging herself with meds to hold up, torturing herself, distancing herself from him. No, she should be happy—filled with laughter, not with drugs, playing with Judith, cooking, reading—doing whatever she liked, relaxed and calmed down, patted down—well-cared, pampered, loved… He remembered the way she looked in the mornings at the bed when she wasn't stressed out, stretching out, rising her arms, a big smarmy smile across her face, her expression open and lit up, because of him, because what he was giving her. He wanted her like that. It was his duty, keeping her like that, not only alive, but happy and well-cared. Everything they did was a risk, but he couldn't risk her like that, he simply couldn't.

Amanda's expression turned a bit thoughtful, "Sanctuary might've taken them," she said musing out, then nodded, "This might be better for us," she said, "If they don't have guns, they might be more inclined to listen to us."

Aaron frowned, looking at her, "Why?"

Amanda opened her mouth and but it was Beth who spoke first, "Because we've got them," she said, turning to the recruiter, "It give us leverage, and if we don't use it, ,t's because our well-intent."

Amanda nodded satisfied, "Exactly. We could barge in, and take whatever we want—" she pointed at the wall with her hand, "But we are choosing to do this."

Abraham gave her a look, and turned to him, "Are we going to play good cop, bad cop routine," he asked.

Rick frowned and turned to Amanda too. Slowly she nodded, "You warm him up, and I'll take it from there."

He—in the question was the man they'd seen outside in the posture a couple of hours ago, leaving for the rest of the guards behind. Daryl and Glenn had trailed after him, and Rick had ordered them a half of an hour ago to take him for questioning. Since, spying the community, they'd been waiting to hear from Daryl and Glenn.

It was getting darker, and colder, and Rick wished they could finish it—at least started questioning the man before the sunset. On the ground, there was still snow but it wasn't snowing now, but instead there was a dry cold—turning the tips of their ears red, and his fingers getting listless too. This—this was a way harder to make in the cold. Thankfully, the walkers were a less of a threat too in the cold, as some of them even got frozen in the frosts—Rick had seen a couple of them frozen in the last month, so not everything was bad.

Amanda brought her hands over her mouth, and rubbing them each other, she breathed over them. Half of her fingers were covered with a similar leather cut out gloves that he'd seen her wearing with her uniform first when they'd been fighting with Dawn at the hospital, and not the first time he wished she could've taken her own bulletproof tactical vest before the hospital had collapsed… Amanda gave him a searching look, lifting her head sensing his eyes on hers, and Rick gave her a small, faint smile back in return.

Her already flushed cheeks with cold turned a bit redder, and Rick enjoyed the sensation again—making her flushing—flustered with looks—he recalled the way she had acted after he'd bitten the corner of her mouth when they were trying to survive on the road—the way she then ran away from his gaze every time their eyes got caught—and the way his eyes kept drawing to her, and each time flustering how quickly she turned them away, making him more, more interested—his smile grew a bit further.

"What?" Amanda asked, her lips turning a bit down, losing the flush.

Rick shook his head, and the radio at his belt cracked. Quickly, Rick took it out, and pushed the handle to speak, "Daryl?"

"We got him—" Daryl informed him quickly, "We move to the cabin."

"Roger that," Rick said back, and turned off the radio. Daryl had found the cabin in the woods as they had covered their surroundings—and they'd decided to meet up there after they'd separated the way.

Rick stood up, "Okay," he motioned at them, "Let's move out."

# # #

The man—the man looked different, though, Amanda couldn't tell how different he looked—even his wrists and ankles tied up at the chair, he looked—smug.

It was either a very good con or the man simply was the most cold-blooded asshole she'd ever seen, but Amanda couldn't tell, either. Both Daryl and Glenn had a few good bruises adorning their faces, so Amanda also knew the guy was able to defend himself. Anyone who would give Daryl Dixon such a black eye must know a few damn things about fighting.

"What's your name?" Rick asked, giving the man a look.

"Paul," their captive quickly answered, as if he wasn't bothered with his current predicament even a bit, "But people call me… Jesus."

Amanda almost let out an amused snort. It must be an inner joke—not a very sleek one, either, because with his beard, and hair at his shoulder, and his handsome face, the guy definitely looked like Jesus. Rick's eyebrow pulled down into a frown as _Jesus_ gave him a look, and asked, "May I ask what you…want to talk with me?"

Rick raised an eyebrow at him, "Your friend over there—" he pointed at Glenn with his head, "He said you _just_ want to talk with me," he stated.

Rick gave Glenn a look before he turned back to the man. Amanda started not liking where this was going—the man—the man looked like he wasn't a captive, not at all. There was a school of etiquette for all of this, dammit!

"You live in Hilltop," Rick asked him.

The man nodded. "That's correct." He gave Rick another look, "I assume you all come from another community. You picked up the best person for the first contact, well done," the man congratulated them, wandering his eyes over them, "I'm responsible for recruitment and discovering new communities to make alliances," he told them in one breath, and should his shoulders, "so if you just be so kind to untie me—we may sit and talk."

Amanda gave it to him, even Rick stared at him almost widened eyes after that. Amanda took a step further, understanding good cop, bad cop routine would just not work with him. This guy was just so canny for that. "At Hilltop you make alliances?" she asked back.

The man almost pursed his lips in the same way she usually did, "We—try to."

"What makes you think that we want to make alliances with you?" Rick asked back, but the man only laughed at that.

"Well, is that a Colt Python in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?" he asked, a suggestive arch of his eyebrow following the infamous innuendo, and Amanda stared—seriously—that was what she had missed—watching her husband getting hit by another man! Good lord! It never ended with him! Rick frowned even worse at the words, his jaw clenching, and Amanda wondered if he was going to lose it—and started with his bad cop routine.

But to her surprise, Rick stayed calm. "Your people don't have guns."

The recruiter nodded, "Exactly—" His eyes skipped all over them, "So why not we cut the bullshit, and you tell me what you really want?"

Amanda took a step further towards the man, and smiled at him, "Jesus, I think this is a beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

_Hurray, we finally have Jesus, and I also made him hit on Rick, lol, couldn't help myself. That quote was a Mae West quote-and the one at the end, I think, I don't need to tell you what it's coming from, he he._

_Rick is getting obsessive with his duties as a husband and a father, and it's gonna be fun to deal with that._

_And the views for the story gets dwindled each day, there's only a few of you left now reading, I think-so don't hesitate to say "hi". Would really like to hear from you!_  
_Take care._


	6. Chapter 6

_Oh my, someone stop me, please, because I can't seem be able to stop myself writing this damn story! Uh._

VI.

Everything seemed to go well, and it made Rick feel goddamn sick. Things never went well with them like this, never, so there had to be so kind of double angle, a sort of hidden agenda he was missing. "Gregory might be reluctant first," the enigmatic man went on talking, "But at the end, he would make the deal. He knows we're hanging out dry."

Rick thought about it a second, then decided to bite the bullet. The man—the man looked so collected, even after Amanda's statement of _beautiful friendship,_ and Rick would like to see the man shaken now. This shouldn't do it. The self-declared recruiter had told them they would a made for guns, trade, and that was what Rick had been thinking as well, but Rick was the one who was supposed to make the offer, not the otherwise.

"Because of Negan?" so he asked, staring directly at the man's eyes, "Because of his men at the outpost?" he continued, and watched the younger man's eyes finally widened—the suave exterior he had put so far shattered, just like Rick had wanted.

Beside him, Amanda turned and gave him a look, too, likewise the rest of his people. His eyes skipped at Amanda. Well, it took two to play the game. She was the one who would know that the most. "Yeah, we know about them," Rick remarked in the sudden silence, and walked toward the man, "So—the question is how we can trust you wouldn't sell us out to them?"

Looking back at him, Jesus seemed to consider this for a while, then shook his head. "You can't. You don't know us, and we don't know you. It's a risk you have to take, but since you're here, talking to me, you already decided to take it."

Rick stayed in silence. He had. He had decided, Amanda needed this, so he was going to do this—but the nagging doubt was still in his mind—he was putting all of his people at risk _willingly_—going against his own damn rules—He stopped the thought. Jesus didn't know that.

Rick walked toward the man forward and knelt one knee in front of the chair where the man still sat down tied. "No," he said, "We're here because we wanted to see it with our own eyes before we decided what to do. Our enemy is the dead. We don't like killing the living—" He paused, nailing the man with a look to make his point crystal clear, his head tilted down, "But let me assure you, we are _very_ good at it."

Amanda's eyes were on him, and with the corner of his, Rick could see they'd started getting heated. She was getting turned on, even in the middle of something like this she was getting turned on by him—and Rick _was_ noticing it. He wanted to bash his head at the wall—this was bad—getting distracted like this—but he didn't seem to be able to stop it.

After his words, contemplating his words, the man finally cracked another smile. "I don't know you, Rick, I don't know if you're good or bad, but I know one thing. You've got guns. If you wanted, you would've just stormed off our gate and would've taken whatever you damn like," the man told them what Beth and Amanda had just assumed before, quite correctly because it was such a vital, critical point in the word they lived now, a point no one would've made any argument against. "But instead of that," the recruiter continued, "you came and took me instead. That alone tells me you're at least _better_ than Negan."

Standing up, Rick nodded, "Good. Because if you stab me at the back, I'll kill _you_ first."

# # #

The Barrington House was bigger than its picture. As she walked in the ground, toward the the red mansion, Amanda tried to recall what she'd read about it. It had four floors, a fact she could observe now, and twenty-five rooms and more than three acres lands which the townspeople had turned to either fields for crops or pastures for their livestock.

The smell—the smell was something she hadn't smelled for a long, long time. Smell of animal, mixed with the odors of the barn close to the mansion. Amanda couldn't even remember the last time she had been in the country before the turn, Amanda had been always a city girl. She hated the wild, the country, the isolation, and the feel of loneliness she acutely felt in those unfortunate times she had found herself in one. Lost in the city's crowd, under its beating pulse, in the cities that never slept, it was easier to pretend loneliness hadn't been there.

But well, smell—smell was still awful. Yet she still wished the days they would have the same smell, their own livestock, barn… Her eyes moved around, and between the FEMA trailers, she saw chickens lazily wander around. "At the beginning of the turn, FEMA chose the House as one of its safe-zones," the recruiter started telling them, catching their looks at the trailers, "and brought their trailers, together with other supplies to make a safe zone." They nodded. It was what Amanda had thought, too. "People started coming too then. The Barrington House is one of the most popular historical sights—even the elementary schools used to make school trips before—so I guess people just wanted to go to places they knew have been around for years."

Amanda nodded. "Every community got a collective memory," she murmured, "and people follow patterns."

Together with Rick, Jesus turned to her as they walked towards the house, "How did you find us?"

"Just like you said—" she told him, "I was making a list of the historical buildings of Virginia to find other communities."

A slight frown appeared over the man features— "You can't find about Saviors like that," he stated.

"I didn't say we did—" Amanda shot back, and narrowed her eyes, "Saviors—you call those men like _that_?"

Seriously? "_They_ call themselves like that—" Jesus said with a low sigh, "They said—they save—protect us."

She only snickered in answer as Rick let out a grunt. "You did all of these yourselves?" Daryl asked, walking a step ahead of them after they'd passed the gates.

It hadn't been easy. The guards at the post duty hadn't let them in first, understandably, they were still heavily armed, and it took the recruiter's personal vouching for them to be accepted inside. Jesus shook his head though. "It was mostly FEMA. They'd started the palisade, we continued."

"Why did they leave?" Rick asked, a frown in his voice, and Amanda had the same feeling as well. She used to go to the rooftop and look at the city—and wonder why—why they had abandoned the safe zones this quickly, instead started bombings. In her nostrils filled the smell of napalm again, and she shook herself out of memory. It still didn't make sense but perhaps but things had grown bad so quickly they couldn't have done anything else—and started a contingency plan, and started bombings. She could have understood it for the city—Atlanta was a big city, with millions of people, but here—the Barrington House. Even the government agencies in the small countryside had left—and that—well, frankly, she had no idea what it meant. Dawn had always believed there was still something left from their world—before her belief had turned radical, and mad but Amanda had never really cared. She'd only wanted to survive—lived to fight another day. She'd never had big ambitions… Her eyes found Rick again, and for a moment, she wondered how it would've been—being with him in the real world—before—when things had been normal—but the question depressed her—because she knew it was the same thing Daryl had felt being with Beth, knowing that they would've never been together. In the normal world, Rick would've never fallen in love with her, as well.

For her turn, she would've completely and utterly disregarded him—pegging him one of the _nice_ guys but she wouldn't have hated him—never—so she thought that was still something. Catching her look, Rick titled his head to her and caught, she gave him a small smile, and ran her eyes away. His frown grew tighter, and she remembered the way he had been in the cabin—and they way she'd been hearing him uttering those words—but she wouldn't get turned on by the words—by him that much—it wasn't even the time, and Amanda always liked nice guys! Yet there she was—getting wet because the man she loved had declared he was very good at killing. But he didn't like it—but only did it because of them—to keep them safe—and well, the distinction made it a whole harder for her not to get—wet.

Her core throbbed again with the same yearning—with same desire—the want to have him inside her—giving her a piece of him. She almost trembled. This was it—if everything worked and they had the deal, she was finally going to learn if she was ever going to have that piece of him growing inside her. Suddenly, the prospect frightened her—she felt like running away—she wanted this, she'd begged for this—she'd even forced his hands into this—when she learned the truth, there wasn't going to be any what ifs anymore, just like she had known—she was going to know it as a fact—no more hope—no more waiting—no more tucking a pillow under her ass…then why the hell she felt tears pricking at her eyes again—a stone deep in her stomach.

As if sensing her mood, Rick fell beside her. "Hey, ya okay?" he asked, giving her a look.

She nodded. "Yeah… Just thinking—" she muttered out.

His eyes grew more suspicious, "Amanda—"

She cut him off, "I'm okay, Rick. Just was thinking why FEMA left—I understand the city—things might have turned bad, but even here—?" She shook her head, putting herself out of her frightened thoughts. She was just scared. She needed to do this. If she couldn't get pregnant ever again, she was going to mourn, cry, then live on. She still got Judith. And she still got Carl and Rick. She still got her family. She turned aside to him, "They left almost every safe zone we found," she said, "It doesn't make sense."

Understanding her point, he nodded. "Yeah."

She turned and looked at the house. "After the winter—perhaps we should go and check Washington. It was always Deanne's real plan."

"I don't know-" Rick said in answer, shaking his head, "We've got our problems before we go look for greener pastures."

With a sigh, she nodded. "I know."

His eyes found her again, "I'm gonna learn if they know other communities under Negan's thumb," he said then, "We need to keep our neighborhood clean first." He paused, "Perhaps after the winter we might start checking out your list."

She nodded. His hand reached out and his fingers brushed over hers, and he gave her a look, a silent look loaded with words could never manage to convey—don't be afraid, it said, I'm here, it said, you got me, it said, you belong with me, it said, I rip off the whole world apart to keep you safe, it said… She swallowed through her tight throat and nodded back.

Jesus brought them through the main door and stopped them at the spacious hall. "Wait here," he told them, "I'm gonna bring Gregory."

Then they waited.

# # #

"I take it you've got a proposition for me," the man in the suit announced climbing from the staircase and stopped at the last step.

Rick stared at the man. It'd been a while since he'd seen anyone in a suit now and the notion was absurd—but also was telling. The interior of the house was clean and tidy, and it took a great effort to keep it that way, Rick was aware. Amanda was having trouble to keep their house clean and tidy as the same way, giving the house the order people needed to have—but the mansion was ten times bigger than their house, maybe even bigger and it was still cleaner and tidier. Jesus had said most of the house had turned to living spaces, and they had started building new houses, but one couldn't say more than fifty people were living in the house. Hilltop was crowded, having more people than Alexandria, Rick had estimate at least eighty people living in the whole town, and he didn't like an outpost managing to keep in line that much people. Jesus also claimed they were peaceful people, weren't fighters but even Alexandria had learned how to fight—Inwardly, he shook his head.

The second community he'd found once again were bloody idiots who didn't know how to kill a damn walker. Jesus seemed to be a capable fighter, but the rest Rick was doubts.

But they had managed what Rick had failed so far—a safe zone that had kept on since the beginning, walls, crops, livestock and such on, so perhaps he shouldn't be so judgment either, but it was hard not to—especially the damn man in suits gave him so smug looks.

"Jesus told me you're the leader," Gregory told him as Rick gave him a look, "Come, let's have us a drink first," the older man turned, and walked to the room across them, "Jesus, keep others—entertained."

Rick turned aside and gave Daryl and others a look, too, then motioned with his head to follow. The man wanted to have a talk. It'd be very uncivil of him to decline the offer. Amanda walked toward him, "I'm coming too."

He nodded. They walked together, stepped in the room. It was a library-study room, decorated with imperial eighteenth century furniture, ornated—almost stately. The smug man had the same air, too, arrogant and…stately, Rick figured having an old mansion had come handy for his façade. He gave them a look, seeing Amanda beside him—and gave them a careful look over head to toe—his eyes faltering briefly at their blood-stained clothes. They'd taken off their jackets, the interior of the house was warm—they must have the heating systems still running, and the stains over his shirt was still visible even in the dark color of the cloth. Amanda had once given him a good rambling why he couldn't keep them clean even for a day—yammering how it was hard to clean off blood. All of the house chores she hated the most washing, and Rick could understand. It was still funny seeing her doing chores, cleaning the floors on her knees or doing washing, but giving him killer glares, she continued. He had tried to help her once as she wiped the floors, but hitting the cloth at his arm, she shooed him away biting off she'd done harder things than wiping fucking floors. Rick had then left her alone.

"It's a good place," Amanda said, waltzing through the room, her tone a bit impressed.

The man's smug expression grew even smugger at her compliment, and he nodded. "It _is_," he said back, "It takes great effort, but we managed it." He paused, smiling down at them and went behind his desk. "This place used to be the chamber of commerce," he explained, settling in his chair, "I used to come to here, having meetings, imagining how it'd be living such a place."

Amanda sat down the one at the other side of the desk, and Rick took the one opposite of her. "Are you here since the beginning?" he asked.

Gregory nodded. "Yes. I came just after FEMA."

Amanda gave the man a look. "Why did they leave?"

His smug expression shook for a second and he gave her a look, and then shrugged. "I don't know. Never said anything. One morning we woke up, then they were all gone."

"But they left the trailers?" Rick asked back, leaning down in his chair a bit, holding the armrest with one hand.

Gregory nodded again. "Funny but it's what happened."

Amanda was right. It made no sense. Why the whole secrecy—leaving a safe place like this? "Jesus told me you want to trade—" Gregory then started, cutting to the point, "Where is your community?" he asked.

Rick let out a snicker, "We can't tell you that."

"You know my home," the man returned, "Common sense suggests I should know yours too."

"We _found_ your home—" Amanda pointed out, "It's not part of any deal."

With reluctance, Gregory nodded. "I take that—for now," he added the last after a pause, "You saw what we've got. What do you have?"

Amanda gave him a small smile, "We've got guns."

"That I _see_—" the older man remarked, his eyes drawing to their arms pointedly, "But I don't need guns. What else have you got?"

Rick stared at him, his look growing sterner. "You don't need guns?" he repeated his words in question, titling his head down.

Gregory nodded affirmative. "No. We got our walls. We got our spears and knives. Walkers are outside." He paused, "We're protected."

Rick gave him another look. "Are you?"

His look lost the smugness for a second before the man collected him again. "We don't need guns." He stood up, "And that's the only thing you can offer—I don't see the meaning of continuing to this."

Rick turned aside then as the man started walking away, "We know why you don't have guns, Gregory," he stated after him. The man stopped dead in his tracks, "We know about Negan."

He turned back. "Then you must know it doesn't work like that."

Rick shrugged in response, and said simply, "It _does_ now."

"Negan might disagree on that," the man shot back.

Amanda gave the man a telling smile again, "What Negan doesn't know won't hurt him."

Giving him a long look, weighing, the man returned to his seat finally. "My people don't even know how to use guns properly. We only have Jesus. And he got other duties."

"We train your people—" Amanda countered, and her eyes skipped at him before she continued, "We're very good at it."

"And in return what do you want?" Gregory asked back.

"Half of everything," Rick stated, staring directly at the man eyes.

Looking back at him, Gregory laughed out. "Half of everything?" he repeated as if in disbelief.

"Guns are very precious," Rick told him, "Besides, we also will train you."

Gregory shook his head. "If I give _you_ half of everything, why the hell I would risk it with Negan?" he hissed back, leaning over his desk, "He's already protecting. Do you see that radio over there?" He pointed at the radio at his desk, "That's a direct line to the outpost. If I call in, they'd be here in a half of hour."

Rick leaned toward him further, too, and held his gaze. "Then why don't you?" he asked, "Negan is _not_ good for business. He made you kneel. He killed one of you as soon as he arrived."

"And you kidnapped Jesus."

"We didn't hurt him—" Amanda pointed out, "We didn't hurt anyone," she went on, "And we could've. We _got_ guns. You don't. And it takes only a few moments to slit a throat," Amanda smiled at the man again with the threat, "Not a half of hour."

At that, the man swallowed loudly. Rick's eyes skipped at her, and the expression over her face as she threatened a man slitting his throat turned his blood hot, too, and it was hard to imagine her now as the woman wiping the floors in their home, yammering frustrated—or playing with Judith laughing—Rick turned back to the man. "We do business, he doesn't. One day he will ask for more," he told the other man, "Someday the half of everything won't be enough for him, and he'll keep asking for more."

"Your people know we're here—" Amanda pressed further from where he'd left, "And Jesus knows we offer help. I imagine how they might feel like when they learn their leaders didn't want it," she threatened again.

Rick almost let out a snicker. He _thought_ he was going to be the bad cop. In the matter of few minutes, she'd threatened the man first with a slit throat, then with a mutiny.

And Gregory understood her point. Slowly, giving them a poisonous look, he nodded. "I see."

Rick stood up. "Glad to see we've come to an agreement," he said, "Soon we're gonna to have to deal with him. Not now, but soon." He paused before asking, "Do you know other communities we can go and talk?"

He wasn't thinking going but he still wouldn't mind knowing. Knowledge was power. "There's one," Gregory said, this time openly giving away the information, perhaps he realized they were together in this now, "It's called Kingdom. I'll tell Jesus to give you its whereabouts. We trade them too."

Rick nodded. Amanda stood up, and they started walking to the door, "And Gregory—" he told the man before they left the room, "We weren't here."

# # #

"You know I thought I _was_ the bad cop—" Rick told her with a smile, leaving the mansion to find others.

Amanda smiled back at him, "No—it was bad cop, worse cop." She bumped at his shoulder, "You were the worse cop."

"Was I?" he asked back, feigning affronted, "_You_ threatened him with slitting his throat."

Amanda shrugged off, "Uh—did you see his expression? How smug he was. God, it's been a while since I fucking hated someone," she muttered out.

Rick gave her a look as they walked at the grounds, "I noticed."

Her head snapped at him, her feet faltering a bit, "What?"

Rick shrugged with ease, "Well, you don't say it a lot like before—" He gave her a look, "You used to go around all the time telling how you fucking hated everything."

"What?" she fumed out, looking at him with widened eyes, "I did _not_!"

Rick nodded at her firmly, holding back a laugh at her expression, "You wandered around bitching about everything." His tone dropped a hitch to mimic her lighter tone, "I fucking hate this place, I fucking hate the woods, I'm fucking hating this—I'm fucking hating that…"

She gave him a look, "Ha ha. Very funny," she grunted out, "You're the fucking life of the party, Rick."

He took her hand, "C'mon, don't whine—" he told her, dragging her, "We find Jesus, and learn where this doctor is."

Her steps faltered again, his moment of making fun of her vanishing off her mind. The doctor. Rick turned to her too, his face now once again worried, "Amanda—"

She shook her head, "I'm okay. We—we came for this." She nodded. "Let's find the doctor."

# # #

Jesus pointed at one of white trailers beside the FEMA ones, and told them, "The doctor Harlan works there. I informed him you want to see him. He's waiting you."

Amanda nodded, "Okay. Thank you."

Rick gave her a look again, and Amanda wished he stopped doing it. It was enough hard as already. His worried looks weren't making it any better. For a moment or so, she even thought of going in there alone—but she just couldn't bring herself to tell Rick wait outside. No. She couldn't do this alone. If—if she learned something wrong—she was going to need Rick, she knew it. She didn't want to lose it in front of these people. Daryl and Abraham had taken back their vehicles and had started loading the supplies as Rick and Jesus had decided the mount of guns required for the supplies, they were taking all the while Amanda waited her insides twisting with anticipation and with worry.

Thank god, Beth had been with her, keeping her in company. The younger woman was going to see the doctor too after Amanda, so she was having the same jitters too—Amanda shook herself out of it. Whatever it was—she was going to find out soon.

Heaving out a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down and knocked at the trailer's door. A brunette man in his late thirties opened it. "Hello. I'm Amanda Grimes," she introduced herself, the first time using her new surname to a stranger, and it felt…strange, not bad, just—weird, "Jesus had to be mention we should drop by."

The doctor nodded, "Yeah—please, come in." He pulled back from the door, and invited them in. Rick nodded at the man, climbing the steps as Amanda gave him a tight smile in return.

The container trailer was forty ft, long enough to fit in a gynecology examination chair beside ultrasonography device, and even seeing the intimidating chair made her knees weak. They sat at the folding chairs in front of his desk as the doctor went behind his desk. At the other side of the trailer, there was another large metal fixed gurney with an arched apparatus stood over it. She looked at it, and frowned, "What's that?" she asked.

"It's a HSG machine, it's a radiologic procedure to examine the shape of the uterine cavity and the shape and patency of the fallopian tubes," the doctor explained, "It's usually not like this—it's gotta be protected, but this is an emergency state medical clinic for reproduction and sexual diseases. So, FEMA built in one, too."

Amanda understood half of the words, but nodded, hearing the shape of the uterine cavity. She wanted to learn if everything was okay with her womb, so that thing might be what she needed to. She turned to the doctor. "I had a miscarriage three months before," she started telling then, "I—I was at my first week. We—We got a problem, and someone kicked me at the groin. I started bleeding and lost the baby."

The doctor nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she said, "We—we've been trying since then but—well, I couldn't."

The doctor nodded. "Have you started having your periods?"

She nodded. "Yeah. After the first month."

"That's good. Are they in order?" he questioned further.

She made a face, "Until this month. I was a few weeks late this month." She paused, her eyes skipping at Rick—next to her, he was in silence, listening to her, "I thought at first I was pregnant, but I menstruated later."

The doctor nodded again. The man seemed to do it after her every response, and Amanda wondered if it was a good thing or not. "It's hard to tell anything without looking your hormone levels but stress usually disrupts the circle. Even weather. Are you having stress—or anxiety?"

She let out a sigh, "Well—you know what things are—"

The doctor gave her a kind smile after that. "Yeah. I know. How old are you?" he asked.

"Thirty-one."

"Have you ever had a miscarriage before?" he questioned further.

She shook her head, "An abortion?" he went on. Rick's eyes found her as she shook her head again quickly.

"No."

The doctor nodded again, "In your family do you have history with miscarriages?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. I—I born into the system. Never seen my mother."

The man paused for a second but nodded quickly again. "Okay." He turned to Rick, "How old are you?" he asked Rick too, and Amanda suddenly realized she didn't know, either, had never asked him. She knew he was in his late thirties, but she didn't know how old he really was, or when his birthday was— Suddenly it made her so sad… She wanted to celebrate his birthday party—celebrate the day he'd come into this world, for he hadn't, she would've been alone now—never even doing such a talk… as bad as it was, she was still glad to being able to do it. She was going to learn about it, then was going to make a cake for him.

"Thirty-nine—" Rick answered, and Amanda smiled. He must've been a father at twenty-five.

"Have you got other children?" the doctor continued questioning his background.

Rick nodded, "Yes."

"Was it in normal ways?"

Rick nodded again.

Amanda frowned, "Why do you ask? I—I got pregnant first."

"You lost the baby at the first week—it might've been ectopic pregnancy too."

"What's that mean?"

"Embryo attached itself outside the uterus—" The man drew something at the paper in front of him, something very like a uterus and showed to her, "When sperms' quality isn't enough, it's usually more common. That's why I asked. Again, it's hard to define without tests—so I wanted to learn the basic." He turned to Rick, and gave Rick a tight-lipped smile, "You're still not old enough. And you got already a child, we can't know for sure, but things must be good at your end."

Well, Amanda had never thought something might be wrong with Rick—so it didn't relax her a bit. She shook her head, "I don't think it's about him." She paused, "I think there's something wrong with me."

The doctor shook his head at her words. "Having abnormalities isn't wrong," he told her, his voice almost—chiding—having a sort of patronizing, "You shouldn't think like that." He stood up, "Okay, let's examine you first." He started pulling the curtain screener to give her privacy as she prepared, "Tell us when you're done." He pointed at the green cloth beside the examination chair, "You can cover yourself with it."

Amanda nodded, grateful. The thought of opening of her legs in front of another man, even though he was a doctor as Rick was in the room was enough disturbing, she couldn't imagine herself doing it without anything covering herself. She took off her boots and pants, and her underwear. She climbed up on the bed, taking the wide cloth, and placing her legs up at the braces mounted at the chair, she covered herself before called them back, "I'm okay."

They came from the other side of the screen. The doctor sat down at the chair in front of her hovering in the air covered legs as Rick came at her left side and held her hand.

He squeezed it tightly as the man took the plastic speculum she always hated and bending down he started working on it under the cover. She grimaced and let out a low groan as he inserted the damn thing inside her and slowly opened it—enlarging her entrance for the close examination. She'd done this before for Pap smear tests, but something was telling her this time it was going to be worse.

Rick's hands cleared her hair off of her forehead as she gave out another groan as she felt his fingers sliding inside her—touching—probing. "When your bleeding was done?" the doctor asked under the cover.

"Two days ago," Amanda forced out between breaths.

The man didn't say anything, and whimpered as he probed—did something, "Just a little bit—you're doing so good," he told her, and Amanda wanted to shout at him to shut the fuck up, and bit her lips not to.

Rick caught her and squeezed her hand again. The doctor came out and disposed the speculum and his gloves into a dustbin next to his chair and looked back at her. She let out a ragged breath. "Is everything okay?" she rasped out, "What did you see?"

The man smiled at him, and Amanda was starting fucking hating it. He turned to Rick, "Is she always this quick tempered?"

Amanda glared at the man— as Rick made a sound, "Uh—"

Still smiling, the man turned to her, "Yes, everything looks normal—but let's have an ultrasound image first. I really need to see your hormones levels, but we can't make tests here. Seeing your ovaries might help."

She nodded. The doctor stood up and went to the ultrasound machine she recognized. He turned it on, and taking the long probe attached to it, he came back to her, settling himself down at the chair. The probe went inside her again, and she really was fucking it, but at least it was much slimmer. Though, it was cold, so fucking cold. She turned her head toward the computer screen, where the ultrasound image started coming at the screen—Rick's head turned toward it, too, but she couldn't understand a fucking thing from the grey black and white misted images, but the doctor hummed once seeing it—so she thought it wasn't so bad.

God, it was killing her—it was really killing her. "How is it?" she asked, breathless.

"Looks good—your reserves are full," he said, checking the screen as he pulled out the probe.

She shook her head frustrated, "Then why the fuck I can't get pregnant!"

Rick gave her a stern look as the doctor's eyes found her too. "Sometimes it just takes time—" the doctor said and then she lost it.

"For fuck's sake!" she exclaimed out, as Rick's snapped a "Amanda!"

Her eyes found his, her neck craned up. "We came to here to learn what's wrong—and he fucking tells the fucking same thing you said!"

The doctor gave Rick a look. "I'll be at the other side—" he told them, "You come after she's up."

Rick nodded, "Thank you, doctor."

The man nodded back at him as Amanda let out a groan. "Amanda—" Rick started as soon as the man vanished after the screen, "Baby—"

She shook her head, "I'm fucking hating this!"

"Hey, just listen to the doctor—" he told her, "He says there's nothing wrong."

She shook her head, and lowering her legs down, she raised herself to whisper at him, "He doesn't tell me why I can't get pregnant."

"Baby—there's nothing wrong—you saw it."

She shook her head. "He said without tests he couldn't be sure. Maybe there's something wrong with my hormones."

"Amanda—enough!" he told her sternly, "If there's something wrong, you couldn't get pregnant at the first place! You know it."

She put her feet down, "He said—it could've been ectopic pregnancy—" she shot back, standing up, "How am I supposed to know?"

Rick shook his head at her but didn't answer. In silence, she put on her clothes and her boots again, and they went other side to find the doctor.

The man showed them the chairs again, "Please, sit down." Leaning down, he looked at her directly in the eyes, "I know you're stressed. You lost your baby, and you want to have another one. I—I'm amazed at your resolution. I'm a doctor—I know how hard a miscarriage is for a woman, but the stress is your biggest enemy. It's worse than those dead walking outside." He opened up one of his drawers and took out something and placed in in front of them.

Amanda looked at the small tiny jar in front of her at the desk. "This's lavender oil essence," he explained, "It helps to reduce the stress, relax you. Take warm baths with it—" he turned to Rick, "Massages work even better. You can use it mixing with other lubricants."

Amanda stared at the doctor in disbelief. "I—I _came_ here to know what's wrong with me and you tell me I should use some fucking oil and—" she spoke, each of her words hitched with the same disbelief and pointed at Rick, "and he should give me fucking _massages_." She shook her head, "Lavender oil and massages!" she almost screamed, "Is this a fucking joke?"

The doctor gave her a cool look as Rick just pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's my fourteenth year in this profession, Mrs. Grimes, and I've seen many women who suffered miscarriages. Each body is different than the other, each body needs a different time to recover. Some of those women got pregnant even before they bled again. Some of them got pregnant after six months—some of them even longer."

She shook her head again. She knew the words were true, but he was still missing one thing, and Amanda knew it was on purpose. "And some of them never managed again, right?" she asked back, "Or lost it again… How I'm supposed to know which one of them I am?"

The doctor gave her a look. "Fourteen years, Mrs. Grimes," he told her again, "We made a close examination. If there was _really_ something wrong, especially with your uterus, I'd have caught it."

She looked at him back. "But you're not one hundred percent sure."

"No results can never be one hundred percent sure," he returned, and let out a sigh, "But if you want to have the next damn thing, we can make an HSG." He pointed at the machine at the other side. "We can go in and have hysterosalpingogram image of your uterus. If there's something wrong, we can pick it up ninety-nine point nine percent sure with that."

She narrowed her eyes, "And I assume there's a catch?" she asked.

"Aside it's a radiologic procedure, we go deep, deeper than I already did. And I need to cut you down a bit. Usually, it's done under sedatives." He paused then said, "And we're low on sedatives. I can't put you under sleep."

She thought about it for a second, then nodded firmly. "Do it."

# # #

"Amanda—" Rick said, but shaking her head, she cut him off.

"It's okay, Rick," she told him back, "I can do it. I have to do it. Please. I can take pain."

Breathing out deeply, Rick nodded.

# # #

Rick looked at her as she lay on her back on the metal gurney. Her heels were at the edge of the metal as she folded her legs at the edge to open herself, another cloth covering the below of her stomach, her hand still tightly in his.

"I'm gonna cut a tiny slice and place the speculum—" the doctor started explaining, but she cut him off.

"No—don't talk about—be about it—" She let out a deep breath, closing her eyes, "Just do it."

He nodded, and bent down—and a second later, she let out a scream—

Rick held her down and placed her down as she started trembling with pain.

# # #

When she opened her eyes again, Rick was hovering her, pushing her hair off of her forehead again. Her hair was wet now—moist with perspiration. She groaned. It was still aching inside, but she'd suffered worse, a lot of worse. Behind the curtain screen, they were alone again. She skidded herself over the edge and tried to stand up on trembling feet. The man had put a cannula deep inside her and gave a sort of mixture, so below of her legs were wet too, with something oily. Rick started patting her dry as she rested herself at the metal gurney.

"Did he tell something?" Amanda questioned him as he knelt between her feet.

He shook his head. "He said he's gonna wait until you're okay again."

"I'm okay now."

"Amanda—"

"Rick—please let's finish this—" Her eyes found his, "I want to go home."

He nodded, and put her pants on, then her boots again. Her legs were still oily and she was faintly stained with blood again, but she wasn't going to take a shower in this place. Rick wrapped his arm around his waist, and they started walking back to the other side.

The doctor gave her a big smile, seeing her again, and something in her stomach fluttered seeing it—and she trembled again, this time for all different reasons. "Is it okay?" she asked, "Am I okay?"

He pointed at the screen behind his desk where a grey and white image of what she thought as her uterus was on, "Do you see this? It's almost perfect." He pointed out, "Do you see the whiteness?" he asked her, "It's a contrast agent," he explained, and she realized it was the oily mixture over at her legs, "We pumped it in your uterus to have its image—if there was some blockades we would've seen it. If there were some abnormalities, we shouldn't have this shape of the uterus. Everything looks fine." He leaned forward to her, "Mrs. Grimes, you just need to relax and give your body time to recover and start taking prenatal vitamins and folic acid."

She stared at him, "So can I?" she asked, "Can I get pregnant again?"

The doctor gave her a look, and let out a sigh, "Yes, Mrs. Grimes, you _can_ get pregnant."

She turned to Rick—words turning in her mind, she had prepared herself so much to hear the negative, she couldn't quite believe it—but the doctor said—he'd said it was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure—he'd said—God!

The doctor stood up, muttering about giving them some privacy and left them. As soon as the door was closed, she threw herself at Rick, already crying.

There was nothing wrong with her! There was _really_ nothing with her. "Rick—" she muttered out between her teary sobs, her voice muffled against his neck and pulled back to look at him.

She opened her mouth, but no word came out. Pulling her back in his embrace, Rick mumbled back at her, breathing her deeply in, "I know, baby, I know…"

* * *

_So, finally we're here. There's nothing wrong with Amanda! Finally!_


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

Before they returned to Alexandria, Rick wanted to make sure of everything. Amanda was still sitting in front of the medical trailer after they'd left the doctor's office, a half thoughtful half dreamed expression over her face, her hand going over her stomach every now and then as they loaded their cargo in the cars.

Half of everything.

A part of him just wanted to go and hold his wife in his arms, caressing her stomach too, everything was okay. _She_ was okay, there was nothing with her. They just needed to wait a little until she could get pregnant again. So he wanted to go and tell her that again—Rick had always believed it, but despite of his belief, hearing the words from the doctor himself, having the assurance had felt good. He was relieved. He'd been afraid—afraid of thinking how things really would've been if there had been something wrong with her as she'd dreaded—She was okay. Everything was okay. He just needed to finish this now so they could go back to home and work on making a baby again…

He gave himself a mental shrug. He needed to deal with this first. He had to be sure. He'd started this so he had to finish it. None of this should come back to bite them at the ass. He couldn't let that happen, not again. He couldn't lose Alexandra, either. Never again.

Gregory seemed like a businessman, slippery but Rick believed they really had come to an understanding. He shouldn't betray them, not unless he had a good reason, and there was none right now. Rick was adamant to keep it that way.

There were two problems right now though. First, it was about the tribute they were supposed to make to Sanctuary. As they were taking half of everything, Hilltop was going to have to give to them less than what they used to, but as it was winter, Rick knew they could reason with them about the reducing supplies. After the winter, they should see. Their deal was a one time thing, and that Negan guy wouldn't like it, but at the end would accept it. Everyone knew things were getting worse.

No, Rick wasn't worried over that. More than anything, Rick was worried over spies now. They'd come an agreement both with Jesus and Gregory, but Sanctuary might have other spies in the community, spies that would fly the words to Sanctuary about the newcomers.

Rick really wouldn't like that happen. The risks they'd taken soured his stomach further, as his mind kept on finding out new angles how his might blow off at their face—and he felt the strain again—stretching out, but no… He'd done what he had to. He always did, he could do everything for his family, everything. Amanda had needed to do this, needed to hear those words from the doctor…

His jaw clenched, he gave a suspicious look over the colony—trying to see hidden enemies… His eyes caught Amanda as she started walking to him slowly, her feet making small lingering steps as he knew it still hurt her moving. Quickly, he walked to her, and held her elbow. "You should lay down—" he told her, giving her look, searching, "They should have another infirmary. Rest there until we finish loading."

Her eyes skipped as they put crates in the trunks of their vehicles, but logistics was still problematic. Rick wanted to take grains and seeds so they could start planting at the coming spring—preparing a field between the walls, there was also a few chickens that Gregory had let them to take, but they couldn't put them into the cars.

They should come back here with one of the trucks. Abraham and Sasha then would give them the lessons they had promised, too. Overall, it looked like soon they should make another visit to Hilltop.

Amanda shook her head. "No. I'm fine." Her eyes gave him the searching look, too, "You okay?"

He nodded. "When he sees the supplies, Spencer at least must shut the fuck up," she muttered out under her breath.

Rick doubted it, but he wouldn't have cared less what Spencer Monroe would say anything about anything. The man was going to be an…annoyance, Rick was aware of it, soon, but as of the moment the last Monroe wasn't even into his top ten of annoyances that made his teeth grit, his stomach coil, the hair on his back stand up. So, Rick just shrugged off, disinterested.

Her eyes wandered around again, and a hesitance entered into her gaze as she turned back to him, "We did the right thing, Rick, right?"

Rick gave off another half shrug, "We did what we had to," he told her back, "You had to know."

"You already told me I just should wait," she remarked, then shook her head, heaving out deeply, "You _were_ right again." She paused, and gave him a tired smile with another low sigh, "This's really very frustrating—you being _always_ right. It used to drive me crazy."

For a second, Rick felt like they were back in the woods after things had gone south, when they had been at each other's throat—and how he'd told her she hated that he was right when she'd hissed at him she hated him—He smiled at her back, and said again like before, "I know."

Her smile grew a bit wider, and they exchanged a loaded look and Rick wished they just could've been back at the home. He wanted to get this shit done now, and turn to home. Then he could take care of her—relax her, pat her down, kiss her, caress her stomach, make love to her…give her his baby... He took a step closer, but Jesus suddenly appeared beside them before he could do anything else.

"We've settled down for now," Jesus told them after a short pause, and questioned, "When will you come back for the rest of the supplies and the training?"

"The next week—" Rick answered, his voice turning placid, sterner as his mind once again was pulled back to the reality, "We'll bring guns then as well." He took a step closer toward the younger man, too, "Sanctuary—how you make the deliveries? Do they come here to pick up or you go to them?"

That was the second thing he had to find out. If they came to the colony to take their tribute, it was worse. They might hear the whispers even they didn't have any spy among the townspeople, but the recruiter shook his head. "No. We go to their outpost. They barely show up here."

Amanda snickered beside him, as Rick scoffed. So much for protecting them, but it was good news. "When they come?" he questioned further.

"Every two months," Jesus explained, "Every month was too much, so Negan decided to give time…" The man sighed out, "We made the last drop two weeks ago—so we've got one and a half month before the next one."

Content with the news, Rick nodded. One and a half month was good. "Who are goin' to drop bys?" Rick went on.

"Usually Craig and Ethan—" the other man pointed at the very familiar looking bearded men and moved his eyes to another man and a brunette woman, "and Andy and Crystal."

Rick gave a close look up at the team, trying to judge them. "They're good people—" Jesus told him then, sensing his scrutiny and Rick only made a noncommittal sound in answer. He didn't suppose there were left many good people anymore; themselves including, but he'd already made his decision.

Better or worse, they'd made the first contact. They'd crossed the Rubicon, and there was no going back anymore.

Half of an hour later, they were in the car again, ready to return to home.

Daryl and Beth were at the front seats, Daryl driving as Rick settled Amanda at the backseat, her back leaned over half of his chest, her head lulled over his shoulder as his arm circled around her waist, his fingers softly playing across her stomach as he had wanted. Soon he was going to put a baby there, he swore to himself.

As if sensing his thought, a small smile appeared over her lips lazily as she made a low humming sound from the back of her throat, her eyes closed but her head twisting toward his ear. Her breath tickled against his skin. Faintly gulping, Rick made a little pressure at her abdomen, talking to each other without words, and her fingertips brushed over his hand in response.

He tightened his arm over her waist tighter in answer, bringing her closer. Her eyes cracked open, and she stared at him as his eyes grew heated, her hand still over his as he continued his motions. "We didn't ask him about the pillow—" she whispered after a while into his ear, tilting her head up, her lips inches apart from his skin.

Turning his palm upward, he tangled their hands together over her stomach, "He'd just say it never hurts to try—"

She softly laughed as the corner of his eyes he caught Daryl gave them a quick look from the rear mirror— "Aren't you always right, Rick?" she smiled and rested her head back on his shoulder.

The rest of the journey passed in silence, their hands still tangled together.

When they arrived in Alexandria, the pale sun was almost set, the sky darkening with clouds, and Carol was waiting them at the gates.

Getting off the car, Amanda's hand still in his, Rick looked at the older woman. "What happened?" he asked then, his eyes narrowing, realizing something was not right at the first glance.

Expectedly, Carol shook her head, "Spencer."

Wasn't he always right?

# # #

"They're having a what?" Rick asked as they walked toward to the church. Amanda had really been expecting something like this—she really did—but wouldn't have the man waited a bit longer—she didn't know—until the morning at least?

She wanted at least this night to them, Rick's hands playing over her stomach as she lay over their bed—naked after they tried to put a baby inside her—and she imagined him giving her stomach flittering kisses—The image was so much powerful she almost groaned as they hurried toward the church. During the all way back to Alexandria, Amanda had been daydreaming about it—when they would be finally alone in their room, enjoying each other's company… She didn't want to deal with this now.

Goddammit, she wanted to make babies!

Not this!

This, in this matter, was another general assembly. The last time they'd held one they had chosen the representatives for the council, so if Spencer had called in one, Amanda knew the younger man was up to no good. She grunted out under her breath. "He called it after you left," Carol continued explaining, "He said he wanted everyone in the church by the evening. Said we have to talk."

"Well, it looks like we've just arrived in time," Rick rasped out, stopping at the church's entrance.

Carol gave him a look as they followed Rick—Beth and Daryl at their heels, and with one swift motion he pushed the door open and walked into the hall like a man going to war.

Well… Shit.

Spencer was at the altar as all of Alexandria minus the teams had left for Hilltop, and Carol were already inside. His eyes wandered around the room and fell on Spencer. "What's happening?" he then slowly asked.

"We're holding an assembly," Spencer answered placidly.

"I can see that—" Rick shot back, slowly walking toward the altar, and with each step he was taking his posture was growing more intimidating, "I was asking for what purpose?"

Spencer Monroe didn't back down. "Because people need to learn what happened today here."

Staring at the man, Rick nodded slowly. "What do you think happened?"

"Hypocrisy—I think hypocrisy happened, Sheriff—" the younger man answered stiffly, "You—you—" he pointed his hand at him, "You always tell us we can't take any chances, but as soon as it was about your own family, you _took_ it. And people need to know it."

Rick shook his head, "I didn't lie to you," he answered back, "I told you why we needed to go." He paused, "I did what I thought right."

"For _yourself_—" Spencer exclaimed, "Not for goodness of this community. You didn't even care your own damn one rule!" he pressed on, and Rick's jaw twitched—and Amanda took a step forward, but Rick stopped him, rising his hand.

"I—I saved this community," he rasped out, and his eyes wandered around the townspeople, "I fought for this community."

"So did we!" Spencer yelled back, "We all did—we came to your help. My mother died helping you—Alexandria doesn't belong to you."

He shook his head. "I've never said it does."

"No—you don't say," Spencer Monroe said back, "but you act like—you act like if you decide one thing, we all are supposed to follow you. You don't like your decision questioned, you don't like them to be discussed, and well, we don't like it happening this way, either."

"We—we elected a council—" he told them, his eyebrows pulling together, "I told you—"

"Exactly!" Spencer cut him off, pointing at him again, but his next words were directed at others, "He called us in then he informed us he's going to another community." His eyes turned to him, "Your—council is a muck up. You expect us just be there, bobbing our heads like puppets!"

Rick let out a snicker. "This's ridiculous."

"This is truth—" Spencer shot back, "You say you're not a tyrant, but you act like a damn one!"

His face wasn't open or anything, but after the words it turned into stone, expressionless—and the look he gave the younger man was enough to kill. Then he nodded slowly, "A 'right—" he slowly drawled out, "What do _you_ suggest then, Spencer?"

"We vote—you don't take any decisions without unanimity," Spencer answered quickly, "We already _voted_ it. If the council don't have the general consensus then we do nothing."

Amanda couldn't take it anymore then. "We did have unanimity, Spencer," she talked beside Rick, "You don't count so good, huh?" she muttered out mockingly, "Glenn wanted to go," and she started counting, "Father Gabriel said it's got potential. Tobin was abstained—_you_ opposed. Two to four. We have the majority."

The man shook his head, giving her a scoff. "That's not the point."

"_What's_ the point?" she exclaimed out.

Spencer Monroe opened his mouth, but Rick raised his hand, "Okay. Let's do it. You want voting—" He shrugged, "Fine. We do voting."

He then turned on his heels, and started walking out.

Amanda stared at his retreating back.

# # #

"Rick—" Amanda walked into their room agitatedly, her hand supporting on her waist, "Rick—are you okay?"

Turning to her, he nodded, "Yeah. They want to do this—let's do it, Amanda—" He paused, shaking his head, "I'm not their…Governor. I've _never_ been. They want a voting, then they _get_ a voting."

Amanda understood his point, but she was still skeptical. She'd heard about the prison before from Beth—how Rick had claimed he didn't want to be their governor again, but their times weren't really times for democracy. They needed leadership, swift and certain, not wasting time bitching over arguments.

"Rick," she started then, "When the enemies of the republic were at the gates, the Romans would suspend democracy and appoint one man to protect them, to protect their way of life." She gave him a look, "Are you really sure this's a good idea?"

Rick shook his head, "Not a good example, Amanda," Rick told her, walking to toward, "Their last dictator ended up stabbed twenty-three times at the end." He took her in his arms, "I don't want to be a tyrant. I'm not Negan. I don't make people kneel."

Her hand touched his bearded cheek. "I know." Taking a step forward, she hugged him, "I know…"

He twirled her around and catching her at her waist, he lifted her up a bit, her feet hovering over the floor, then walking to the bed, he threw her down. "And right now, I'm just a man—" he told her as she let out a laugh, her back hitting at the mattress.

His hands quickly took off her sweater and tee shirt, leaving her only with her bra, and leaning down, he crawled over her, his lips kissing her stomach as she had dreamed, "Right now I'm just a man—" he repeated across her skin, "A man who just wants to put a bun into the oven."

Amanda let out another laugh, as her hands went toward his head and vanished in his dark curls. Right now, Amanda didn't want him to be anything else in the world, either.

# # #

It happened the first time three weeks later from that night. She woke up from her sleep at the dawn, the pale sunlight slowly slipping through the cracks of the shutters, and there was a tightness in her stomach. Her first reaction was fear—a cold dread—the memory returning to her—but the next second, she felt—something else… Not there was no—coil in her stomach—no ache, it just felt—sick. She held her breath for the next three seconds, then suddenly bile rose to her mouth. She jolted up from the bed like lighting and ran to the bathroom.

As she heaved, she held the toilet tightly, her stomach making funny things, and she knew it wasn't only because of the nausea.

Rinsing her mouth with mouthwash, Amanda turned to bed, Rick's eyes on her. They stared at each other but they both didn't say anything. Instead, she just slipped under the blankets, and turning on his side, Rick just wrapped his arms around her, and settled her across his chest, and his hands slipped under her tee shirt, and the callous skin at her stomach made her feel safe she had never felt before.

His hands still at her stomach, they went back to sleep.

The second time it happened, it was one of the happiest days of her life. Judith had already managed to stand up on her own and had been staggering with her first steps. Pushing the coffee table away toward the corner with her feet, Judith in her arms, Amanda turned to Rick as he sat at the couch, "Watch it."

She put down the baby at the ground, and holding her hands, she slowly straightened back, and taking two steps back, she let her hands go. She stepped backward, leaning down again, raising her hands in the air as Judith started wobbling toward her—her own little arms rising too,

"Yeah—come to Mommy, honey—" Amanda encouraged the baby girl, "just like that—" she took another step, smiling at her, "Show Daddy that swagger—"

Then it happened—the thing she'd been waiting so long—so fucking long—Amanda took another step back, her arms raised up, calling her baby angel, and Judith titled her head up, making another stagger, then her face twisted—her lips pursing down in a way Amanda could swear just like _her_— then the baby made that voice—whimpering, whinny tone rounding the sounds from the back of her throat, calling at her… "_Mommieee…_!"

She stopped dead—out of breath—staring at her baby as Judith whimpered out again, walking to her, "_Mommiee!_"

She then rushed at the baby, and taking her in her arms, she hoisted the little angel up, spinning her in the air. Judith laughed, and Amanda laughed even more… Rick stood up from the couch and came to their side. Lowering down the baby at her chest, she poked Rick at his upper arm. "I told you she's gonna say mommiee first than daydee…" She swayed her baby in her chest as Rick leaned down and gave them kisses at the top of the head—and Amanda swayed and swayed—and swayed her baby in her chest, her heart fluttering happily—and it happened again.

Something churned inside her—and bile again rose to her mouth—She stopped, and hastily giving Judith to Rick, she started climbing the staircase, throwing herself in the bathroom.

She started throwing up before she could reach to the toilet.

Later, Rick cleaned up her mess without a word as she lay down on the bed.

The third time was the following night—she was trying that acorn and beet cookies, Carol's special recipe because she'd decided it was time for a celebration. She made the dough, even managed to ration a bit of honey into it and put it into the oven. She took her daily vitamins and folic acid as she waited.

Rick had come back outside the wall just before the cookies were ready—the kitchen filled with the smell of baking. Rick sniffed walking in the kitchen, "Hmm… what's this?"

"Acorn and beets," Amanda said, smiling, "Carol's special. I think a celebration's in order."

"Hmm—" Rick said back, walking to her, and putting his hands at his waist, he lifted her up and sat her down at the kitchen counter. "I like when you make us cookies…" he murmured, his lips finding her neck as she opened her legs and he snugged in.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, "I know—" she breathed out, tilting her neck backward to give him a better access, "you really like eating…my cookies."

His eyes found hers, "I saw Carl with Enid—" Rick whispered at her.

"Hmm…" she hummed back as his hands went to her pants.

Looping her fingers through his belt, Amanda pulled him closer in response. She wanted him—she wanted him so fucking much, sometimes even she couldn't understand— Her head was turning—her core throbbing—something deep inside coiling—deep in her stomach—_oh god!_

She pushed Rick off and jumped down quickly before she threw up on him. Her hands flied up and she found the bowl she had made the dough and started hurling inside.

Above her, she heard Rick sighing deeply.

They still didn't talk about it.

It was the end of the month, when Rick finally decided to make the talk. She'd just come back to bed—rinsing her mouth—morning sickness was getting worse and worse. She'd started throwing up like—every fucking time she smelled—something—_anything_… which was unfortunately all the time. Amanda always hated rural life, the smells of it, but she could have _never_ guessed there would've been so much diverse smells in it—and she was fucking hating each of them—

Yet, she was still glad—each time the sickness hit her, she prayed wordlessly inside—almost dropped on her knees and cried her heart out—each fucking time…

"Baby—" so Rick finally called her out in that morning as she slipped into the blankest once again, "We should make test now."

She nodded as his hands went to her stomach, "Yeah."

He kissed her shoulder, "I asked Denise one yesterday. It's in the bathroom," he told her then.

She let out a sigh, and nodded again.

It took a half of an hour until she gathered enough guts to leave the bed to go to the bathroom again. She found the test inside the closet. She sat down the toilet and did all the necessary bits, then started waiting.

Five minutes. It was the fucking longest five minutes of her life.

She started tapping her feet, counting—and rushed out of the bathroom even before she reached to sixty. She gave the test to Rick as he stood hovering at the bathroom door's frame, waiting for her.

"Tell me—" she said then spun on her heels and threw herself on the bed.

She covered her eyes with her arm as they waited in silence—then she heard slow footsteps approaching her slowly. Opening her eyes, she lowered her arm down and raised herself on her elbows and watched Rick as he walked toward the bed.

He stopped at the edge, staring at her, then leaning down, he took her hand and slowly raised her up. He then gave her the test.

As she looked at the two thick red line over the screen, Rick slowly knelt in front of her legs, and holding her hips kissed her stomach, and talked for the first time to their baby, "Welcome to the world, honey—" he greeted their baby as Amanda smiled, her arms wrapping over his shoulder, pulling him closer toward her, the world under a heavy blur… "I'm Daddy." His eyes lifted up at hers, "And this crybaby here is Mommy."

She let out a whimper laugh, her tears running over her cheeks, and snorted, "Don't listen to him, darlin'," she said, bowing her head, "Daddy is just being silly. You just hold on there, hon'. Just hold on there. We're waiting you."

She'd never waited anything this much all in her life. Her eyes found Rick again—a piece of him inside her again, growing—her miracle. Their miracle. "I love you—" she whispered out, but she wasn't sure at who—but as Rick's lips brushed over her stomach again, Amanda realized it didn't matter. She loved—everything. At that moment, she fucking loved _everything_.

* * *

_Oh my god, I want to cry...finally...another bun in the oven, yay. Amanda and morning sickness was so fun to write! _

_That comment with Romans was an alteration from a quote from the Dark Knight. Harvey Dent said it in the movie._


	8. Chapter 8

VIII.

Amanda would've thought the next morning would be magical again, just like the night she'd thought herself pregnant, miraculous, a world full of marvels. It should've been a bright morning, the pale winter sun high at a clear sky, snow covering everything under a white blanket. There was no snow now, though, raining had started last night—melting the last snow on the ground. It'd stopped now, but the clouds stayed, painting the sky a dark depressing grey. So there was no bright sunlight slipping in the room, as well—and instead of basking in happiness in the bed in the arms of the man she loved—the man she had a piece of growing inside her, Amanda was puking her guts out.

With an inward sigh, she stood up from the toilet where she knelt down in front of on the floor. This seemed like to be a routine.

She rinsed her mouth and washed her face, splashing cold water at her skin to wake her up. She was getting—tiresome. This morning sickness was getting to her. She had started feeling like she was…shrinking off. She was probably getting dehydrated. She'd been careful to take more fluids since last week, but she could scarcely stomach any food in these days beside the salted crackers. She splashed the cold water at her face again and walked back to the bed.

Like usual, Rick was studying her carefully. She tried to hide her worry. She shouldn't worry. Almost all women had morning sickness. It _was_ a good thing. She shouldn't worry. When she came to the bed, he opened the blankets for her. She slipped inside, and lay on her beck against him, his arm automatically draping over her stomach as she rested her head on his shoulder. His other hand went and found the crackers they kept at the nightstand now. He took a package, taking one slim piece opening it, he brought to her lips.

It'd worked for her in the last week, she'd felt better after she'd eaten salted biscuits after she threw up, soothing her upset stomach. "This's pretty common for the first semester," he told her softly, raising on his side on his elbow to look at her as she munched the cracker slowly, "Soon it's gonna pass."

Absently, Amanda nodded. She knew it. "Yeah," she muttered out. But really what difference would've made? As long as her baby was healthy, she could pass the whole fucking nine months at the floor of the bathroom. Though, that would've been a problem as well, she wasn't sure if it'd would've been healthy neither for the baby for her if she passed the whole pregnancy, gushing out in the toilet… She pushed away the thoughts, steeling her mind. She _shouldn't_ worry. Stress was her biggest enemy, she recalled the doctor's words. Maybe they should try that lavender essence oil. Rick had wanted, but she had refused… Massages and lavender oil… It just felt…stupid.

She shook her head mentally. Everything was good. There was nothing wrong with her, with the baby. She just should stop over thinking. She swallowed and forced herself to crack up a smile, "At worst case, it's only for nine months, right?"

Rick smiled back at her and leaned down towards her closer, "Now that's the pep talk—" he muttered back, his face just hovering above hers.

She swallowed again as she stared at Rick, realizing where this was going to, too, and the prospect felt—she didn't know…weird? His baby was inside her, just like she'd dreamed so many times before and soon they were going to have sex, and it felt…weird. She knew it was ridiculous—She was going to have…cravings, would go such in heats, she might even beg for him—even she'd heard stories women going crazy with heightened hormones… and nine months…

Hmm… nine months, she reflected, her mind getting distracted as his lips found her jawline. Nine months… She started counting the time, tilting her head up as Rick stared kissing her neck. She wasn't exactly sure in which week she was right now, but she estimated at least four weeks—so that made it—she dropped her eyes downward and looked at Rick again.

"We should have the baby in August—" she whispered at him, with a genuine smile this time, and then paused, noticing it, "It's gonna be a Leo," she said and smiled further, "I'm a Leo, too. Born in August 10th."

Rick lifted his head up from her neck an inch, and smiled back at her, then lowered his head back again after a second, "Like the mother, like her baby," he murmured against her skin. She let out a half whimper a half giggle as he found that ticklish spot under her ear— "I know you were catlike—" he whispered at her again, his hands starting roaming over her body, just like his lips.

She gave him a look, pulling back an inch, "I thought I was a hedgehog."

"Not now—" He shook his head, "Not now…"

She guessed no. Not anymore. There was no quills left in her right now—Not when his lips brushed over her skin featherlike, his fingers caressing her softly, a piece of him inside her growing—Nope. She was as wild as a cute pussycat now… She smiled, "Hope you won't get bored with me…" she told him back, tilting her eyes down again, "You said my craziness got a certain appeal."

His hand started moving downward between her legs, "You got a certain appeal like _this_, too."

"Good to hear…hmmm…" she murmured, closing her eyes with a purr, then paused, her breath hitching a notch as his hand slipped inside her pyjama bottoms and into her panties, "Because…" She gave out a deep groan as his fingers slid into her depths, and it wasn't feeling weird now, _not at all_… "I'm quite enjoying myself here…" she breathed out.

"Hmm—" Rick growled out at her, his lips finding her collarbone.

"Fucking loving it, in fact—" She arched her back as he started moving his fingers on a rhythm, "_So_ fucking loving it…" She paused, "When's your birthday?"

"My birthday—?" he rasped out, not even stopping a second what was doing to her downward.

"Yeah… we should celebrate. I'm gonna make you a cake." She paused again, tossing her head, "Chocolate or vanilla—?"

"Chocolate…" His lips trailed over her breasts, "It's 4th April."

"Hmm mm…" She let out a deep moan, moving her hips with his rhythm, "Faster…" She moaned loudly as he obliged, quickening his pace, "You're a Taurus man…"

"Is it a good thing?"

"_Very_. They—say—they say Taurus men make great husbands and fathers—" She paused, letting out another languorous breath moan, "You should get us a Christmas tree, honey, and that silly elf on the shelf for Judith… I want to—" She paused, arching from the bed further as his other finger found her clitoris and pressed on it, "Oh god!" she exclaimed, her hands flying up to bring him closer to herself, closer and _deeper_…and started gnawing at his shoulder to silence herself.

"Amanda, baby…" Rick whispered back at her, "I'm really loving you like _this_."

# # #

Even though Rick would never admit it to her, not having to put a pillow under her hips came to him like a relief.

This was better—so much better, watching as she stared at the ceiling, _only_ basking in her post orgasmic bliss, her lips having that little curve upward—eyes glazed—wasted but happy—not a trace of worry over her face, at least for a while, her beautiful features open and unwind, her guard down again as she let herself go, giving herself to him with her everything…

And Rick always loved her seeing like this—_always_. Suddenly that thing was with him again—stronger than any time, that feel of specialty—coursing through his veins wildly—his reason for persistence—to keep up going, doing all this crazy stuff—because of them—because of his family—

Next to him, she suddenly trembled, chill of the morning finding her. The weather was getting a bit warmer, but the chill was still there. He frowned. Amanda seemed to be wanting to celebrate their first Christmas together. Rick was sure it'd already passed, January must've started—but it made little difference. If it was a Christmas she wanted, then she was going to have it… Rick was going to give her whatever she wanted—always.

And Rick knew how much she wanted them to be a family—he knew what that meant for her—so they were going to celebrate it, and he was going to find her that book for Judith—the elf on the shelf—so she could read it to her baby girl. He pulled the blankets over her naked body, and brought her closer to himself, giving a kiss at her shoulder. "You're gonna get cold—" he chided at her lightly.

She should be careful now. She was going to have a baby—_his_ baby… His hand went down and found her stomach there. It calmed him down, keeping her like this in his arms. She relaxed in his embrace further like she always did, sighing out loudly. "Do you take your vitamins and folic acid daily?" he questioned her further.

Amanda nodded, "Hmm mm…"

"Good—" he said back, "For how long you still have your stash?"

"For a month or so—" she answered, "I've finished Doctor Harlans'." She paused for a second, and asked, "Do you think we should go to see him and get me checked?"

Her voice came out a little worried again, but Rick shoot his head, "No. Not yet." They just couldn't, not right now. He wanted to get her checked too, be sure—but he just couldn't risk it anymore. They had to wait. "We went there too much—" he explained. In the last month, they'd returned twice. First it was for the rest of supplies and the training, and he'd hoped it would've been the only time, but the lessons hadn't been enough so Jesus had insisted they should have come back, and Rick had caved in—albeit reluctantly, but the date was approaching now. "Two weeks later they'll make another drop by to Sanctuary. I don't want to be around before it was done."

He didn't want her anywhere around those people, never. He should protect her, now more than ever, keep her safe—keep their baby safe… "I talked to Glenn, too. He said they decided it, too. And Daryl and Beth are still thinking on it." A lot of people were thinking about it now—just like Rick had assumed before.

Things hadn't been bad during the last month. They'd managed to set up the foundation of the outer wall and cleared off a field between two walls. Glenn and Heath had found more fertilizer and row covers too from a supply run, and Maggie had already drawn a plan for the seeds and grains they'd taken from Hilltop. As it was still winter, there weren't many options, but they'd managed to clear off almost a half of acre of field suitable for planting. It wasn't much, but it was better than anything. They'd used half of the field for potatoes and onions as they were also the easiest and the most efficient way to evade from a possible famine, and used the other half for eggplants, cauliflower, cabbage, turnip and carrots. They'd used row covers to create a microclimate for the vegetables, protecting them from frost and harsh wind. Rick wasn't sure how much of them they were going to be able to harvest but at least they were doing something, creating a life—a better world… "Either way, we should wait until the end of the month," Rick finished.

She was in silence at first, and Rick knew her mind was working, but then she let another soft sigh and nodded. "Okay." Rick nodded back absently, glad not to have an argument with her, and got her trusting in him… He wanted to take her to the doctor, he wanted. Even though he didn't want to think of the possibilities and risks, they were still there in his mind—the way Lori had had to—No. He stopped the thought. He wasn't going to think about it. Amanda was going to be safe. She's got Alexandria. They got a doctor, and an infirmary with antibiotics and other meds. They also knew a gynecologist, if Denise couldn't do it, then Rick was going to get Doctor Harlan for the delivery. Whatever the costs were, it didn't matter. Rick was going to make sure everything was going to be okay.

His arms tightened around her further, and he squeezed—trying to shut off the thoughts… she was safe… He was going to keep her safe. He wasn't going to lose her—not again…never again… "I was thinking of asking Beth and Daryl to move in," she stated out of blue, cutting off through his thoughts, twisting in his arms to face with him, "What do you think?"

He looked at her, his eyes carefully searching through hers… Amanda always wanted them to be a family—always… Her cheeks flushed even redder at his silent gaze, and she ran her eyes away as if she was caught. "Well, we need to start pooling in houses anyways," he told her back, "Spencer lives in a house all by himself. Aaron and Eric live in another one. We can't go on like this."

They shouldn't. He'd already ordered a blockage during the daytime, only letting houses to have current for an hour for cooking and other chores in a day, saving the rest of the energy for filters and other maintenance systems, but still soon it wasn't going to be enough. Amanda nodded back in answer, "If we start house sharing first," she said thoughtfully, "they couldn't bitch about it much."

Rick shrugged, "They could, and would—" he told her back, shrugging. Since his time trying to run Alexandria, he was beginning to understand he just couldn't make everyone happy— "I can't make everyone happy."

She smiled at him, her fingers lightly touching at his cheek, "You make me happy—" she whispered at him, "very happy."

In answer, he reached down and kissed her.

# # #

_Rick! Rick! Rick!_

He was running in the filthy corridors… walkers were all round him—walls smeared with blood and grit he was running and killing—screams echoing in the air…

And she was calling for him—

_Rick! Rick! Rick!_

"Amanda!" he screamed back, killing another walker, "Amanda, where are you?"

In answer, there was only his name screamed back—_Rick!_

Then he noticed he was crying— "Amanda!" he yelled again, running… He had to find her—he had to—he had to keep her safe—He had to…

But he was just running—as she called for him… _Rick! Rick! Rick!_

"Rick! Rick—!" A hand, firm yet gentle, shook his shoulder, bringing him out the dream, and Rick opened his eyes, and looked at the familiar green ones—her face hovering just above his as she leaned over him, her eyes having a fright, "Are you okay?" she asked with a small voice, rasping sleepy, "Bad dreams?"

He reached out and pulled her back against his chest, his arms wrapping her protectively—She was here—she was with him. He dipped his chin and kissed her hair. He would never need to find her, because he was never going to lose her.

_Never_.

Rick closed his eyes and turned off the voice calling at him in his mind… _Rick! Rick! Rick._

He was never going to lose her. Never.

# # #

She twisted her head to the other side, making a face, tilting her neck away from the cheesy egg toast he'd prepared for her. "For the love of god," she exclaimed, gagging, "Get that thing outta my face!"

Rick let out an exasperating sigh. "Amanda—you _need to_ eat—" he told her, extending the toast toward her again, "You can't live on pecking at salted crackers."

"I can—" she let out another hitched breath, "Rick, please."

"Amanda—"

She gagged again, "It's just gonna—be a waste on me—I can't k-keep it inside…"

"You have to try," Rick pressed on, his tone getting sterner, "You need to take some protein—"

"Rick, get it outta my face or I really throw up—" She stopped, and jolting up, started running to the bathroom.

Rick sighed out again deeply as she bawled out inside, putting the plate at the nightstand. A few minutes later, she walked back into their room, walking tiredly—her face pale as smoke, and threw herself at the bed. "I _told_ you—" she muttered out.

Rick sat beside the bed, and pushed her hair off of her forehead, wet with perspiration. She looked thin—so thin—throwing up constantly—losing more fluid each time. She was in around her second month now, but morning sickness was getting worse. "It's gonna get better—" he told her, not like the first time, either, but she shook her head.

"So you keep telling me—" Her hand found the salted crackers, and she started munching on one, shooting at him a glare, "And I'm _still_ waiting."

"Amanda—you're still at your second month—"

"No-!" She shook her head, and started crying, "I don't want to hear it! Leave me alone!" She flipped at the other side on the bed, "And take that thing out, too. It still smells worse than rotters!"

With another sigh, Rick shook his head. She was getting in her moods again. During the last month since they'd learned about the pregnancy, things were getting harder. Her hormones were all mucked up, Amanda had never been good at dealing with her emotions, and in her case, it meant trying to live through a staggering tornado. Though, Rick wasn't any better, either… He still had the dreams—trying to find her, her voice calling at him, and Rick knew in which corridors that he was running.

Prison. In his dreams, he was running in the prison's corridors, trying to find her as she screamed for him, and he didn't need to be a damn psychologist to know what that meant.

"I'm gonna find you some apple sauce," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, shutting off the echoes in his mind. _Rick! Rick! Rick!_

He gave himself a mental shake and taking the plate he started walking to the door. Before he walked out, her voice stopped him, "Give it to Judith—" she instructed him, turning again to him, "_She_ needs protein, too."

Rick nodded. She gave him a look, her eyes were now dry, her crying ceased as fast as it'd started, "Tell her I'll be coming to her as soon as she finishes it."

Rick nodded again and left the room to find apple sauce first. Apples, potatoes, salted crackers, pasta without any dressing were mainly the only food she was be able to stomach these days, and it had started to worry Rick. Amanda was worried, too, she knew, worried and frustrated, and Rick knew they both were trying to hide it from each other and were failing.

In the kitchen, she found Beth as she prepared breakfast. They had moved in the house three weeks ago as Amanda had wanted, and Rick was more than glad to have them around now. Their family. All of them, together.

"Hey, morning," the younger woman greeted him, seeing him walking in the kitchen, "How is she?" and her eyes fell on the toast, and she lifted her head up at him with a scowl, "She can't stomach eggs. The smell makes her sick."

"She needs protein," Rick said flatly.

"She can start eating the next month," Beth said in return, "Right now she just needs to keep her stomach full and not to get dehydrated."

His eyebrows clenched as he put down the plate on the kitchen counter. He knew she got a point. Even Denise had assured them the body would sustain itself and the baby—even though she was a gynecologist or a surgeon, she was still a doctor, but Rick wasn't liking it.

He wanted her to eat well, sleep well, relaxed. He wanted everything be okay—not like this—spending her days howling out in the toilets. "You have to give her time, Rick," Beth told her then with an emphatic look, "You're worrying too much now."

He gave the younger woman a hard look. Beth returned the look, "You make her worse too."

Yeah, he bet he did… But… Everything had to be okay, he needed to make sure of that… His dream flashed before his eyes again, the way he ran in the corridor desperate, desperate to find her—to protect her, to keep her safe… He gave himself a mental head shake and looked at Beth again. "Can you bring her apple sauce?" he asked stiffly, "It'd settle down her stomach. She just threw up again." He pushed the plate toward her. "And can you give this to Judith. Amanda wants her to eat it."

Beth nodded, "Yeah. Sure."

Rick nodded back. "I'm going out to the wall—" he told her, taking his jacket, "Where's Daryl?"

"He went to check the snarls."

Rick nodded again. Daryl still went to the woods for hunting as it was still their only supply for meat. Aaron and Sam had started accompanying him during the trips. Once they'd managed to hunt down a deer, and they had been eating it since the last month. They had conversed it with salt and smoke—and put the dried meat in the chilly cellar under the pantry. The storage used to be wine cellar before, but it worked good for their purposes.

Rick left the house and started his daily routine in the town.

Each day he started his day like this after he left the house. First, he made a tour along the wall, get the feel of it, then talked to Michonne who did the same as they walked around the town and checked the houses, warehouse, solar panels, pantry…making sure everything was okay.

He liked the notion, walking through the town, watching it as Alexandria started waking up, life—restarting as their people left their homes for their appointed duties, and smoke and cooking smells started rising from the chimneys, their first livestock, chicken wandering around, outside the low yet constant labor sounds rising as earth dug with digging forks, stones scratched as trowels hit it with plaster, hammers pounding, handsaws cutting, the axes ripping, trees cutting down for more field…Alexandria trying to build itself more.

Amanda used to accompany him in the tour before her morning sickness had gotten worse, so now it was only him, and as Rick made a turn around the town, the feeling slowly found him, a respite of the sorts, listening to the sounds outside, breathing the smells of life in the morning air. The pebbles beneath his feet cranked with each step under his heels, and reaching out an arm, Rick touched the metal wall with his fingertips.

This was what he was. His only objective. What he had to—why he had to… A better world.

He found Michonne as she made the same tour as well with her new partner, having a feel of the town. Alexandria might be getting _better_, but things became harder too. There was a strain in the community, an unnamed rift, an unnamed conflict, and it wasn't between his own people and Alexandria's older residents as Rick had expected, no. It was much more than that, much…deeper.

Expectedly, Amanda was the first one to pick it up, smelling it in the air. It'd been at the Christmas dinner party Amanda had decided to throw out to celebrate after she had made their own family celebration after Rick had found her a Christmas tree and that elf on the shelf as she had demanded but Rick had realized later she'd wanted to bring all the townspeople together to understand what had been happening.

In the party, things had become clearer. Almost half of the community only greeted the other half—and it wasn't about who was coming from which group. Maggie, Cherry, and Claire, an old resident of Alexandria, a woman who knew about home gardening had talked to each other during the whole party as the woman barely talked to her neighborhood. Things weren't as bad as between his own people, but Rick still felt a rift.

They'd been more than three and a half months in Alexandria and new…alliances were forming. Amanda had said she'd noticed it first outside the walls as they prepared the field and the outer wall, and stated it was only expected, they were broadening their horizon, she had said.

Rick didn't like it.

Though whether he liked or not, it was still there. He greeted Michonne with a tilt of head as the woman did the same. "How is it?" he asked.

The walks with Amanda in this part had used to grow—tensed as the women tried to be civil each other—not sending off glares. They never liked each other, and Rick wasn't sure if he was the only reason, he still didn't want to go to there—but then he realized it—the rift, and knew Amanda was right. They were all broadening their horizons. Rosita and Sasha weren't on the speaking terms, only holding it because of the necessity much like Amanda and Michonne as Sasha had started sharing Abraham's room. Much like Amanda, Maggie hadn't liked it—even liked it less than Amanda as Maggie had a lot closer to the Latin woman than anyone as they'd helped her looking for Glenn after the prison so Maggie had barely looked at Sasha too in the dinner party and they all were looking at Abraham as if he had killed a puppy.

"The same—" Michonne answered flatly, and Scott asked back, "How is it with you?"

"The same," he answered back.

They stared at each other for a second before Rick nodded at her again started walking away toward the gate, feeling the rift deeper. It just—he didn't know. He still cared for Michonne, he still trusted her. They'd been through so much together, but they were drifting away—both started having different lives. He guessed that was the way of things too—even before the turn. Always. Sometimes you just grew apart.

He left the gate and started the same tour with field and the construction site. The field just outside the metal wall was covered with makeshift hoop houses they had done using row covers, garden hoses, some rebars and clamps to build the structure to keep their plants from the cold. Soon, in two months or so, they might be able to harvest their first products. It was a hard, backbreaking job with lots of labor, but they were managing it—some better than others.

Maggie, Cherry and Claire were making their own tours too in the field, checking out the plants and he saw Maggie shooting at a glare at Claire's neighbor with the other two as they opened the covers. Rick went to their side. "You open the covers?"

Maggie nodded, "It's warmer today. We need to check the flowers, see if there are critters, worms, or fungi. We need to clean them if there are and apply pesticides."

Rick nodded, looking at their homemade insecticide sprays. Rick knew it was the harder part, to keep the plants going into decay with diseases or with critters, so he nodded and decided to help them.

He took one of the oily sprays and started working in one of the hoop tunnels. Before the hour finished, he saw Amanda walking to him. She had put on her cut out gloves and a white knit cap to protect herself from the cold even though it was warmer. She must have feeling cold stronger than them. Rick scowled at her as she settled down beside him at the ground. "You should be resting in the bed," he told her lifting his head.

She shook her head. "I'm fine—" she said back, "And Beth started cooking."

Then Rick understood—she couldn't stay in the house when cooking was done, smells getting her sick again. But he shook his head again, "You should go to the other house—"

"I wanted to take fresh air—" she cut him off, "I'm bored with laying on my ass whole day."

He stared at her, "Amanda, you're out every day."

Every fucking day… He tried to keep her inside the house, he was afraid if she could catch cold or something, but each day she took Judith out, making strolls with Beth and the baby—then came to outside the gate to look for things. She rolled her eyes, "I'm still supposed to lead these people, do you remember, Rick, right?" she asked mockingly.

Bowing his head, Rick pulled off a few critters' eggs off under the leaves and sprayed the insecticide over the plant, "We're doing fine—"

She shook her head, her eyes moving away to the next tunnel beside them, towards Maggie and her group. "Rick," she started, her tone getting stiff, and turned to him, "If we don't do something soon, we're going to have an... unrest." She paused, "Maggie isn't happy."

He let out a sigh. He knew, he damn knew. "This can't go on like this," Amanda continued, "We need to create a sort of—hierarchy…and some sort of performance system." She paused, "We used to have it at the hospital," she continued, "As the police we already had the hierarchy, and we used to have a point plan, too—" She paused, "Cherry was telling Maggie yesterday they had a similar system in Sanctuary too."

Rick nodded, understanding where the conversation was going. They had quasi fifty people living in the town and half of them were doing all the hard work as the other half was… trying to do something. The other half was the people who had been at the warehouse when the fighting against the walkers had done and even the former residence had started being unhappy as the things were now—hence the rift between them growing apart.

He needed to keep them together, it was his job—keeping this community together, building a better world but sometimes he wished he could just fight with walkers. Walkers were easier than people. The constant threat was still looming outside at their walls, but things were getting better, they had supplies, another wall protecting them, growing food, chickens wander around in the town and almost immediately bickering started, too.

Rick grunted. As soon as the guttural sound left his throat, beside them, Maggie exclaimed, throwing her own spray and hand shovel away, tossing a killer glare at the neighbor. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked to the other woman, walking toward her makeshift tunnel. "Haven't you started _yet_?"

"I—I was—"

Raising her hand, Maggie cut the woman off, "You know what, Susan, forget it." She shook her head, "I'm not doing this anymore." She turned aside and her eyes found them as they stood up.

"Maggie—" There were three or so feet between the section of tunnels in the field and Amanda quickly took between them and went to their sides, Rick at her heels.

"No—" Maggie cut her off, too, "No. Enough is enough. We're doing all the job! My hands are sore, my back is killing me—I'm digging earth with my hands for a month. My husband risks his life for them every day—and what she does in return?" She pointed at the woman's own tunnel, where it just stayed untouched, "Doing! She does nothing!" Maggie shot at the other woman another glare, "You're useless, Susan!"

Rick came between in them. "That's enough, Maggie."

"No—it's not enough!"

"I said—_enough_!" Rick told her with a hard stare, "We're going to talk about it."

# # #

"A point system," Spencer asked back after Rick had finished, "You want to set up a hierarchical point system—" the younger man repeated.

Amanda couldn't understand why he was so shocked, it was logical, they couldn't go on like this. It was even a miracle they lasted like this. The tension was so heavy in the air, she could almost smell it. But then again, in these days she smelled _everything_.

After Maggie's showdown at the field, Rick had called in a council meeting, and explained the situation to their council members. Frankly, she thought it was the best idea, but others had agreed with them, too, but Spencer—Spencer just seemed like he couldn't bring himself to agree with Rick on anything. She shook her head tiredly. It was a hard day, and she just wanted to be in the bed again with Rick, not dealing with this. But no… Spencer just decided to play the hard ball again.

She really didn't want to do this. It was a long day—a long, long day. She threw up four times—only ate a few crackers and an apple and a potato mash, and the idiot was getting on her nerves… She wanted to be in Rick's arms now. He was having bad dreams, waking up from restless sleep. He didn't talk about them, but Amanda they weren't good ones. He probably saw her getting bitten or something—perhaps even dreaming losing her in the childbirth like he'd lost Lori… the notion disturbed her—not only because it brought back her older insecurities but because she was getting worried about it as well—she'd thrown up four times today—what if her delivery was going to be as challenging as her pregnancy, and she—.

She stopped the thought—she was getting ahead of herself again. Everything was going to be okay. She just should relax…they just both relax. But first… "Things are changing. You don't have ready supplies that have been given to you freely anymore," she explained again, "We're working for them, and some of us working our asses off, as some others…just…filing in the day. If we don't set up some distinctions—the others just will stop working hard, too, and then we all lose."

It wasn't something good to consider, but at the end why Maggie would have worked her ass off for Susan? For what purpose? How long she could keep it up for the good of the community. No. This just didn't work like that. And they had to start building up a system like now before their numbers grew more.

But Spencer Monroe shook his head, "Some of them were old—"

"We'll have a special arrangement for the old—" Rick cut in immediately, "Nothing will change for them," he assured.

"But what about Susan?" Spencer asked then, "Her husband died for this community, fighting. We're supposed to forget it now."

"We all died for this community," Rick said back, "We all fought for it, but she's alive now, and she's gotta do her best."

"She's—"

Amanda shook her head, "No, she isn't. She just walks around, plays the victim and expects people to be understanding. It doesn't work like this. Maggie isn't going to work her ass off to keep her belly full. She's gotta do it herself."

Tobin from the other side nodded. "They're right. People at my team started talking too," he said, looking at them.

"We're going to put up a different system for the injured people or old people in the town, but for the rest of us—we're going to earn a living from now on."

# # #

She threw herself at the bed after the meeting, feeling spent. "Spencer Monroe is worse than walkers," she muttered bringing her arm closer to her eyes.

Rick scoffed. "Tired?" he asked her, sitting at bed next to her, his hand finding her shoulder, started messaging her sore muscles.

She shook her head, lifting her arm up away above her head, and smiled at him, "Nope—just faking it so I'd get a back rub."

He smiled back, and murmured leaning down on her, "If you wish…"

She laughed softly, "You're so predictable—" she breathed out as he twirled her at the bed, lying her on stomach.

"Hmm mm—" he said, pulling her off her sweater and tee shirt above her head, and unhooked her bra.

She'd been reluctant first for massages, after Rick had convinced her for one—using that lavender oil—well, if she knew it would've been this good, she would've gotten him do it sooner. Rick straddled her hips, hovering himself on his knees, and the room smelled lavender essence, too, and for a change, it didn't turn bile in her stomach—instead soothed her—and his sturdy, callous hands started working on her back, gliding easily over skin with the oil.

She let out a moan, "You're taking a good care of me, Rick."

"Always—" he whispered at her.

She twisted her neck aside and her eyes found his, "Spencer isn't going to leave this alone. This going to create a disturbance, and he's going to use it against you."

Rick shrugged off. "I'm not interested what Spencer might do, baby."

"You should—" she chided, as his hands went up at her shoulder, "He's Deanne's son, and he might act foolish, but he's not stupid. He hates you because Deanne wanted you to lead, and he will never forget it."

"Still not interested—" Rick said back, and gave her a look, "and we're supposed to relax you here."

She let out a sigh as his fingers pushed into a kink over at her shoulder blades to prove his point. "It's just—he's better at politics than you. He knows how to get the people to his side."

He smiled at her, "But I got _you_—he doesn't."

She reflected her smiled with a languorous breath, "You really know how to charm a girl, Rick."

Her eyes closed with another moan sigh, his hands still over her shoulders, then she opened them again and looked at him. "Do you think we should go to Hilltop?" she asked, "It's the end of the month now."

He'd wanted to wait until the next month, and she should have at least ten weeks now. She—she wanted to see her baby—want to hear her soft, tiny heartbeat.

She stopped—realizing what she'd just thought. _Her_.

Had she really felt it? She was going to have a baby girl…?

Then at that moment she realized she wanted it—a baby girl, just like Judith. She always said her baby—but in her mind it was always a _her. _She wasn't sure what that meant, if it was a boy she still would love him with all of her heart—but she wanted to have Rick's baby girl…In her eyes, an image flashed—Rick holding up a baby girl in his arms, with his dark curls and with her soft green eyes… and suddenly it was so much… so fucking much… She burst into cries…

"A—Amanda—" Rick sputtered out above her, his hands stopping, "Baby—what's wrong?"

She twisted under him and liftin up from the bed, she hugged him, as he sat down on the bed, still crying, "I—I just thought it—_her_—" She looked up from his chest, "I thought as _her_… A baby girl…" she said between cries, wrapping her arms around his neck, "I want your baby girl, Rick."

* * *

_With the next chapter, we're returning to Hilltop, and will learn if it's really a girl or a boy. Some women says that they were feeling the baby's sex during the pregnancy and I wanted to play it with Amanda, too, and of course it's a baby girl with her, as she felt it in her at the first time seeing Rick with Judith._

_Until the next time, take care, and tell me what you think if it's not to much to ask :)_


	9. Chapter 9

IX.

"I'm coming too—" Spencer announced the next morning when Rick told them they were going to Hilltop again, "I want to meet this Gregory."

Rick scowled. Of course, he did. Spencer Monroe had just to be in the middle of every damn thing. Gregory and Spencer in the same room sounded to him like a headache, a headache finding his way slowly but truly from his temples to the bridge of his nose, and Rick pinched it, tilting his head down a bit. Though, he knew he couldn't deny the other man's request, so he still nodded. Not all Alexandria was going to like what they were about to do with point plan, and Rick didn't want the damn man to have anything else to rise his hand higher, and really, he really hated politics. "But we can't make any more trades with them right now," he warned the younger man after a second, having a feeling Spencer might try to do it as well, just to prove that _he_ could make bargains as well.

The last Monroe nodded back, "Who else going?"

"Glenn and Maggie," Rick started counting, pointing with his head at Glenn who sat at the other side of the table, "Daryl and Beth too, and Tobin wanted to see their palisades, meet their builders, so he's coming too. Carol possibly would want to come as well," he added, looking at the older man. Tobin nodded affirmative. "I'll have Abraham and Sasha too," Rick continued, "and Michonne and Scott, and possibly Heath and Tara, as well."

Father Gabriel gave them a worried look, and there was a frown in his voice when he asked, "All of these people are necessary? I thought they're friend."

Yes, they were, two weeks ago, before Negan had come to look for his supplies. They didn't know what happened after then, and Rick wasn't going to take any chances with it. Especially _now_.

"They must've done their drop by two weeks ago," he started explaining, "We don't know how it went. Maybe nothing happened, maybe Negan didn't like the light supply. We don't know. In any case, we need to be prepared."

Spencer gave him a look, "If you're that afraid, why exactly do want us to go?"

Rick gave the man a stern look. Spencer knew the answer, of course, and he wasn't going to drop it before he heard it from Rick, but he wasn't going to play the other man's game this time. Spencer Monroe wanted to play politics… Well, Rick could play it, as well.

"Because we need to know," he answered placidly, "We need to learn what happened—" He wandered his eyes at the council, "Negan is still out there fifty or so miles away from us, and he might find out about us soon. We need to keep ahead of him." He paused for a second, "This _is_ still a blessing," he told them, leaning over his seat, "If we didn't learn about him, if Daryl and Beth didn't bring Dwight and Cherry, things might've gone a lot worse for us."

There was a silence in the room, because they also knew Rick was right. Fifty or so miles weren't that far away—sooner or later, no sooner than later they would've met with Negan, not knowing exactly what he was capable of, and then things would've turned to a disaster. And Daryl and Beth had also killed a couple of his men—killed them with rocket launchers and Negan knew that—knew that there were people out there—people with guns and rocket launchers, killing his men. From all things Rick had heard about the man, he knew Negan wasn't stupid.

The man had to know just like Rick he needed to keep his neighborhood clean. The war between was inevitable. Rick had been trying to evade it for months, but it was inescapable. Because Amanda had been right about it—there was always something worse out there—and they had found it.

Their baby had given them the push they had needed. It was a blessing—their baby was a blessing… He remembered the last night—how Amanda cried in his arms, telling she felt it—a baby girl, growing inside her, his daddies little girl… Rick didn't care if it was a girl or a boy, it was their baby—a piece of him and Amanda, against at all odds, but Amanda wanted a baby girl—and Rick wanted to give her whatever she wanted—whatever she needed—and maybe that was what she needed—truly—finally having her own little baby girl to make peace with her own childhood—he didn't know, he just knew he was going to give her whatever she wanted—needed—always… Always.

Besides, they could always have a baby boy later…

His eyes skipping at her, they lowered toward her stomach—and he wanted to see it there—the bump, the image in his mind—Amanda with her swollen belly was so vivid for a moment he wanted to throw her at the table and fuck her senseless, make her give herself to him with her everything—having his baby—their eyes caught each other for a split of second, and they exchanged a look—and her eyes glinted, as if she understood him…and perhaps she did—

Then she blinked, broke the contact and turned to Father Gabriel. "All council is going," she told the pastor, "you should come, too." Her eyes flickered at Spencer for a second, and gave the younger man a half smirk, "An official visit for all council."

Something that would put Spencer back to his place again, just a councilman. He'd been right. He got her, and Spencer didn't…neither that Negan.

The pastor nodded slowly. "Okay."

Rick stood up, "We leave in an hour. Get prepared."

# # #

Giving Judith a kiss at the hair, Amanda passed her baby to Carl as the teenage boy stood with Enid at the hall. "Beth prepared her potato mash and eggs, and apple sauce." She possibly didn't need to tell how he should take care of Judith, Carl had been always great at that, but in the last days, the young teenage boy was infuriated with first love, and well…love made you stupid… Amanda had the first hand knowledge on that.

"We should come back before the evening," she told Carl, passing her hand through her baby's soft hair. Judith had soft light brown, blond hair like she, but Amanda wanted her baby girl to have dark curls like Rick… curls she could play with, twirling her fingers around it… she smiled warmly, the scene in her mind playing… then realizing what she was doing again, she stopped herself. She shouldn't do it. She had felt it—was still feeling it—but she just shouldn't. It wasn't right. And all in frankness, perhaps she was feeling it wrong—perhaps it was just her yearnings… just like how she'd thought—felt herself pregnant again when she had been only late in her period. And she yearned for a baby girl—didn't she? She wasn't sure what exactly that meant, but the feeling was there, too, and she knew it was wrong…It _felt_ wrong… _All_ she ever should be wishing to have a _healthy_ baby.

Judith made a whimper in Carl's arms, trying to reach to her again, "_Mommie_—" she cried over, and Amanda leaned down again to kiss her hair.

"Shhs—Mommy and Daddy will come back soon, honey," she told her baby angel, redoing the hair clip she had put on her hair in the morning, with car, Alexandria and Hilltop made a half of an hour trip, "We'll bring you a present, sweetie pie—" She continued, smiling, and leaning forward, whispered into Judith's ear, "Your baby sister's first picture…"

She closed her eyes. _Dammit! _

She couldn't help herself, she just couldn't. She just wanted it, her two baby girls—one had grown in her heart, the other growing in her belly. She wanted to get their hair done—wanted to play with them, read them books, talk to them silly… love them…love them so fucking much so they would know how it felt, how it felt being loved—not like _her_… She stopped her thoughts. She shouldn't think like that… she just shouldn't…

She pulled back and tossed a pointing look at Carl and Enid, "Try _not_ to have fun much, 'kay?"

Rick gave them a look, too, and adjusted his rifle, and held his son's shoulder tightly, titling his head down, "The house is on you, take a good care, son."

Carl nodded. "Yes, Dad."

Rick nodded and pointed his head at her, too. "C'mon—" he told her, "We're getting late."

She nodded and giving Judith a last quick kiss followed him to the car. Once again, they were left alone in the car, even Beth and Daryl had decided to go with the motor home like the others, and Amanda felt—relieved, despite everything. Right at the moment, she just wanted to have Rick's company. He always brought her peace…

Though, she wasn't in peace, not really. She was tensed, every cell in her soaking with anticipating as they approached to the colony, closer and closer as Rick drove in silence. Soon she was going to hear her baby's heartbeat for the first time—would see her for the first time… There again… _her._

She closed her eyes for a second and felt Rick's callous hand taking hers across her lap, and gave it a squeeze, as if he understood her… and perhaps, he did it.

"I—I still feel it, Rick…" she said then, because suddenly it was so much again, just so much… "Do you think it's okay? Preferring…wishing a girl?" She paused, "It—it feels wrong…"

His eyes skipped at her for a second from the road and gave her a look, "Before Carl was born, I wanted to a boy—" he told her then, his eyes turning to the road again as he pulled his hand back, "I wanted to take strolls with him like my dad and grandpa used to do with me. I wanted to teach him all they taught me." He looked at her, twisting his neck, "Amanda, baby, it's okay. It _is_ okay. There's nothing wrong with it, nothing wrong feeling like this—all people do it. I did, Lori did it… She used to want a girl, too, then loved Carl with all of her heart after he was born. You'll love our baby, too, no matter what." He paused and gave her a small grin, "Besides we could always have a boy later…"

She stared at him, her mouth opening, "Rick Grimes!" she exclaimed, "Have you started planning our second child even _before_ I gave birth to this one?!"

He eased off his shoulder, and his eyes skipped at her, loaded with speculation—glinting with mirth—yet there was still a seriousness in it… "Well…" he drawled out.

And she thought she couldn't have possibly fallen in love with him any longer—not like this—but a rush of heat swept her—her insides melting—melting in her core—her head spinning—so she rested her head backrest, smiling as she shook her head, muttering a "Idiot…"

His eyes found her again, "Hmm... that's good…" he told her then.

"What?"

"You didn't say no."

In answer, she just laughed more…but before her eyes another image appeared—Rick and her baby son-walking hand to hand—Rick teaching him all the stuff he'd taught Carl, all stuff his father and his father had taught him so well… Rick's baby son… and their daughter—and Carl and Judith—a big, fucking happy family—children running around—screaming as they wrecked a havoc…

Her eyes opened—and that thing in her core throbbed again—and she _felt_ it, felt it within her every cell… "Rick—I want it—" she breathed out, "I want him, too… I want them both."

He nodded, his eyes getting heavier as his hand reached out to touch at her cheek. "We will. I promise."

Looking back at him, she nodded in silence.

For the rest of the road, they stayed in silence, too as Amanda played her scenes in her mind… Having that much children would probably turn her mad, but she didn't fucking care. She wanted them… children—as much as they could. They were still young. She was thirty-one—she still had time. But she didn't want to wait. She could get pregnant after her baby was six months or so—then she'd give birth again nine months later. That would put some time between the babies so they wouldn't get overwhelmed with two babies at the same time. Then perhaps—they would make another one in the next year—five children—they could deal with them… She imagined Rick playing with her babies—and she would chide at them so much—so fucking much because they would make such a mess—and Rick would peck her at the lips to soothe down her quills—and the children would just make a face—seeing them licking each other's faces…

Her smile grew more in her daydream and she realized they'd arrived as the motor turned off, the sudden silence bringing her back to the reality. She opened her eyes and looked at Rick but instead of seeing him smiling at her just like she'd hoped, she saw him staring at the colony's palisades with clenched eyebrows.

Her fantasies vanishing, she drew back on reflex, alert. They left the car as the motor home parked beside them and stared ahead at Hilltop outside the main gate.

Something was wrong. It was in the air, in the forlorn eyes that were looking at the them from the battlements. Even smells were different—she could smell _everything_ now—down to desperation. Suddenly she wished they would've done another recon first before they made themselves at the colony. Rick had been careful but… The doors of the gate opened, and Jesus walked out.

They all stared at him.

And Jesus stared at them back. With two agitated steps, Rick walked toward him, "What happened?" he asked.

The younger recruit shook his head, "Let's get inside. We need to talk."

# # #

Ruined and demolished were the first words came to his mind as they walked in the grounds.

In the old times, a few times Rick had seen a few places raided by the gangs, looted—and Hilltop exactly looked like one of those places right now. Something pinched in his chest, seeing the destruction. Poultry had been demolished, the new buildings they had been trying to pull up had been burned down, the makeshift workshop at the entrance and open forge had been destroyed, even some of the FEMA trailers had been broken down.

He didn't know if they were the reason for such a kind of destruction, nevertheless seeing it hurt Rick. These people had built something—built it their own hands and some sonofbitches had come and ruined it.

His jaw settled as he scowled, another headache coming at him—and in the back of the mind there was a fright too—this—this could happen to Alexandria as well—if they weren't careful, wary, and prepared, they—they might live through this too—again.

He stopped the thought. No. Never again. He would not lose another home, another safe haven…not just after they had—sort of talked about having another child, not after he saw Amanda sitting next to him for rest of the road—her eyes closed—a goofy smile at her lips—possibly imagining them having more kids… They—they should be their life.

He had to deal with this Negan, he was beginning to realize much clearer. He couldn't let the son of bitch do _this _to Alexandria—not as long as he had a say in it.

"What happened?" Amanda repeated his question, her eyes searching over the trailers, looking for the familiar white one. He knew she was looking for the medical container. Rick had spotted it down there at his old place, and Amanda followed his gaze and winded down as soon as she picked it up.

It didn't seem like broken. That kind of equipment was very valuable to be vandalized, and Rick was almost surprised that they had left it behind.

Jesus returned to her, understanding their gaze. "They left it—said they'd come back later with a trailer and pick it up," Jesus explained.

Come back later… He frowned more as his lips clenched into a thin grim line. "Negan's men?"

He didn't need to ask, not really, but still looked for a confirmation. Jesus confirmed with a brief nod as they climbed up the stairs.

Rick stopped the rest of them at the steps, rising his hands up as Jesus walked in the door. "You look around—" he said, "listen to their stories too." He paused, "But don't say anything. Be alert."

He started walking inside with Amanda, but Spencer's voice stopped him. "We're coming too," the other man told him, "The council members."

He let out a low sigh. Of course. He tersely nodded and started walking again, but didn't check to see them following him inside. He knew they were.

Inside the mansion was the same, too, raided down to the portraits at the walls. The picture Gregory had so boasted when they first had come was gone, together with the imperial furniture, even library was demolished, and more importantly Gregory seemed to be nowhere around.

Looking around with warry eyes, Amanda and Rick settled on the folded chairs in front of Jesus as Glenn and others stood at the wall. There weren't enough chairs in the room, and Jesus was sitting behind a small white portable kitchen table.

"These are our council members—" Amanda made the introduction, "Glenn Rhee, Father Gabriel, and Spencer Monroe. We wanted to make a…formal visit."

"What happened?" Rick asked, turning his gaze at the recruiter from the empty walls, "Where is Gregory?"

Jesus shook his head. "He's—dead. They killed him."

Yeah… He had beginning to suspect that. He exchanged a brief look with Amanda before his eyes found Jesus again, "How?"

"We made the drop by two weeks ago—just like it was arranged. Ethan, Craig, Andy, Crystal, Tim and Marsha went for the tribute. It—it didn't go well. We thought they'd take it because of winter?" he asked them, shaking his head, "They didn't."

"Only, Ethan, Andy and Crystal came back—" Jesus continued, "With them."

"Their leaders—it was called Simon—I'd never seen him before—I'd gone a couple of drops myself too—He said Negan wasn't happy. He said he thought us...being disheartened. He said he thought we needed—motivated again. Gregory started talking them—but Simon—Simon just called at Ethan—and Ethan—he stabbed Gregory."

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose— "They—they have Craig, Ethan's brother. Tim and Marsha too. Simon then said perhaps they'd been too…light with us—and ordered his men to take down _everything_… They took the rest of our supplies—tore apart whatever they couldn't have—and told us work harder and left."

"They took _everything_?" Amanda asked, stressing the word, "they took the guns?"

Jesus shook his head, "No. I'd hid them before the drop."

Rick nodded, at least that much they had left, "And—you told them about us?" he asked, staring at the man's eyes. They could be very well in a trap now, but Rick had brought eleven capable fighters, a good arsenal just because of that. Hilltop had a strategical advantage, if they would ever need to hold it—the only problem would be supplies.

Jesus shook his head, "We didn't. There wasn't much of talking anyway," he hissed through his teeth, "But I don't know about our men at the outpost. They're still being held there."

"To encourage you?" Amanda asked.

Jesus nodded. "Supplies?" Rick asked then, "How did you manage?"

"I went to Kingdom—" Jesus told him then, the other community Gregory had mentioned before, "The King took pity on us, I guess," he explained.

Amanda frowned. "The King?"

"Yeah…" Jesus said back, shrugging, "Their leader calls him like that." He paused a second, "He's a good man. He gave some supplies in debt, and the rest I made some supply runs."

"Did you talk to him about us?" Rick asked sharply.

Jesus returned with the same sharpness, "I didn't tell anyone about you! Could you stop thinking about yourself for a second? You brought us into this."

The accusation made his frown tighter, and he could hear Spencer sneer behind him, "You chose to make the trade. You took the risk. We didn't force you."

Jesus pointed at Amanda with his head, "She threatened Gregory twice. I heard about it."

Rick shook his head, "We made some precaution, not threats. _You_ wanted guns." He gave her a look, tilting his head down, "But you're right—we're into this together—" His eyes skipped at his own council, "Negan is all of our problem."

Settling back, the recruiter nodded. "Yes."

"Who's running the place now?" Rick asked, "You?"

"Seems like…" the recruiter muttered out, "No one dares it after Gregory."

Rick let out a gruff. But Amanda shook her head, "It doesn't make sense," she then stated.

They all turned to her. "What?" Rick asked.

"If you're alluding that I'm not cut for leadership," Jesus told her back with a snicker, "I…concur."

In answer, Amanda shook her head. "Not _that_. This—all of this doesn't make sense. They did this because of light drop, but they didn't kill you, only killed Gregory… to motivate you for more—and then ruin everything in the town." She took a small breath again, her brows tightening further, and Rick was starting to realize where she was going with it, "Taking supplies, yes, I get it, but why they ruin everything? They even broke the workshop—" She stopped, and stood up, looking around them.

"_If_ they task you to bring more supplies, why would they break down the equipment that would make it possible?" She gave them another look, "Yet they did, even though those orders were in conflict with each other, which means they're not coming from the same person."

Jesus looked at her, as she concluded, "_Which_ means Negan might have a subordinate who might have some other opinions in his head." She paused a second, "Tell us more about this…Simon, you said?"

# # #

"So, what do you think Simon wants?" Rick asked as she sat down after Jesus told them about this sonofabitch in the town, which was pitifully little.

Amanda shrugged, shaking her head, "I don't know. Maybe he isn't happy with the way of the things are—and wanted to…test the waters?" She pursed her lips down—she didn't know, she couldn't play guess gaming with such a little intel, but she knew one thing—wanting more supplies and ruining everything couldn't come from the other same person, unless that said person was a bloody stupid oaf—and from all the things she had gathered about this Negan, she could call him with many things—but never stupid. "Perhaps—Simon wants you to fail—then Negan would finally order your demise. I don't know."

"And wouldn't he do that right now? and tell him we—rioted or something." Jesus asked again.

She shrugged again, "He might—" she agreed, "but perhaps he wants to play at the safe side."

Rick shook his head, "It didn't matter. We need to talk with each other." He stood up, "Can you—can you give us the room?"

Jesus, nodding, walked the door, and left them alone. As soon it was only them in the room, Amanda looked at them, and stated, "We have to help them—" Rick's eyes found her, and she stared at him back, "We can't close our eyes anymore and look at the other side," she told him what she'd said earlier after they'd talked with Dwight and Cherry at the first time, and repeated his word just moments ago, "We're into this together." They couldn't just let them do whatever the hell they wanted, exploiting the weak—no, Amanda had been never into defend the weak, and protect the innocent, she'd always cared for her skin, but in deep down—she always had wanted—had always tried to help—and just a look around the town was enough to make something in her twist with furry—and she remembered the Wolves—how much she had wanted to find them and make them pay… She couldn't have done—those monsters had found them instead—and they shouldn't make the same mistake again. "Remember what happens with the Wolves," she added.

Spencer shook his head, his eyes finding Rick's too, "He said if we do this before, it's war."

Father Gabriel cut in, "Can't we—can't we bring these people into Alexandria?" he asked, "We have—houses. Places. We can live together."

Rick shook his head. "And leave this place to Sanctuary?" he continued without waiting an answer, "No. This is a good strategical post. If Negan is really here, he's much closer to Alexandria."

"He's still got an outpost," Glenn reminded them.

But Rick shook his head again, "It's just an outpost—not a community. If we don't deal with him now here, we deal with him in front of Alexandria. Amanda is right," he said, and Amanda felt—relieved, realizing at the same page, "We can't look at the other side. We're getting circled. We have to stop him _now_." He paused, "He knows we're out here—we've already killed his people, and the outpost got hostages. They might spill out our deal. Perhaps they already did."

"They don't know where Alexandria is—" Spencer said in return, frowning, "_You_ told us that."

"I didn't know where Hilltop is and figured out pretty quickly—" Amanda answered before Rick could, "They might do it soon, too. They're smart."

"She's right," Rick agreed with her again, "They know we're out there, but they don't know about us. We do. We know at least two outposts' location and where Sanctuary is. If we wait, we lose that advantage. They still got the numbers, but we've got more intel."

Amanda continued, "If—if we somehow attack and bring some serious damage to them, we might get Negan to…negotiate."

It happened all the time—she'd seen it between mob wars countless times. Sometimes they used to just let two sides killed each other, doing their job—and at the end Amanda always saw them sitting down into negotiations, when collateral damage became too much to continue the strife between the parties. They could do it too. History also was made of these comprises—Middle East before the turn was made of these conflicts—but then again, they never got any real peace, nor the Families at Atlanta.

Rick shook his head, as if he'd heard her thoughts, "No. We can't live together," he said, his voice so heavy with the ghosts of the past, Amanda could hear the pain and loss in it, "We can't." He paused, "You once told me there are people out there worse than us—a lot of worse, and Negan is that worse. It's either us or them."

Amanda nodded, recalling their talk. Rick was right. She always knew this time was going to come—because it always did, and she always knew when that time came, they were all glad to have for Rick being the kind of man he was.

"Then we make it _them_," she told him, her mind steeling. She wandered her eyes around them again, "We're all here. We vote now," she declared and spoke firmly, "All those in favor, raise a hand."

She raised her hand and watched Rick as he raised his, too. Glenn followed him, as Father Gabriel did. They all turned to look at Spencer. They already had the majority, but she wanted all of them vote the same. They were going to war, and she didn't need the damn man conspiring behind their back.

"If they won," Amanda told the last Monroe then, "We lose everything your mother fought for."

Then it happened. Slowly, Spencer raised his hand, too.

# # #

"We're going to help you," Rick told Jesus after the voting when they were alone, "We need to think and form up a plan. Possibly need to go to that Kingdom, as well." Jesus nodded. "They might help?"

"I don't know—" Jesus said back, "the King—he's a good man, but Negan… he's afraid."

"We'll talk to him—" Rick told him back, "If he wants to live, he needs to fight," he repeated what he used to tell Alexandrians all the time, and at the end they had—they had fought for their home, Rick had managed that, so he just needed to do it again.

And he was going to do.

He'd made a promise.

A better world… A world where people like Negan couldn't exploit, couldn't take advantage, couldn't use fear—no. Not if Rick had a say in it. Amanda had been right. There were always worse people out there, but Rick could die before he let them ruin what they had build with their blood, sweat, and tears.

He turned to Jesus again, "You all do. You all have to fight."

Jesus nodded, "We will."

Amanda turned to the younger man, too, "Before we start the meeting, I need to see Dr. Carson," she said, "Where is he?"

Their baby—their blessing.

"He should be in the container," Jesus answered, "I meet up after an hour?"

Rick nodded as he took Amanda's elbow, and they left the mansion.

As they climbed down the stairs, Amanda looked at him, "We're doing the right thing, Rick."

"I know."

"—and the smart thing—" she added, giving him a side look, her lips pulling out into a small, faint smile.

He reflected it back, and brushed his fingers at hers, "I know—" he said, and asked, "Are you nervous?"

"I—" she started, but stopped, shaking her head, "My heart beats so fast—in my stomach."

He took her hand this time, and squeezed it, and didn't leave it until they came in front of the trailer.

"Hey—" the doctor greeted her when they stepped into, "I heard you're back."

Amanda nodded, sitting in the folded chair, and looked around—as if to make sure everything was in order in the container like the last time. "We're lucky they couldn't my container—or—" he stopped, "Or didn't take, either." Amanda frowned, "My brother—he was here with me at Hilltop at first—" the doctor said, "The first time Negan's men came, they took him as…one of supplies. He's in Sanctuary now. So…you know…I thought they would take me, too, when they found the drop…light."

Fear caught him, imagining the doctor gone... No. Never. Amanda would need the doctor. Rick would never let that happen. "I'm sorry," Amanda said, "and I'm glad they didn't."

The doctor smiled her back. "Me too." He gave her a look, "So, how are you?"

"I'm—pregnant."

The doctor's smile grew more, "That's the best news I've heard for a long time."

"Thank you," Amanda said with a smile, too, her eyes finding his, "We—we made a test. It was positive. I think—I'm in my tenth week."

He nodded, "We can determine at the ultrasound—"

"Can we hear heartbeats?"

The doctor nodded, "Possibly. The first heart began to develop after fifth week," he told her, and started asking, "Do you have any groin pain?"

She shook her head, "No."

"That's very good."

"Any stains?"

"I once saw—but it was so faint… I couldn't even get—worked up…" she paused, "Much."

Rick smiled, remembering the morning. He'd made her look at him in the eyes, after she let out a scream in the bathroom, telling her she was okay, the baby was okay. She had calmed down, gradually, after no bleeding followed, but she'd stayed in his arms until the sun set down again that day, crying.

"Good—" the doctor mumbled again.

"I've got morning sickness," she said then, "I can't stomach almost anything—keeps throwing up whole day."

"Not only in morning?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I gagged three time since I was here—and already threw up once."

The doctor nodded, "Some women has morning sickness worse than other. Metabolism differs for everyone as our hormones levels."

"Is it—isn't dangerous for the baby, right?"

He shook his head, "Do you have IV fluids back at home?" he asked. They nodded, "If it gets worse, you can take one. But they would pass a month later."

She let out a sigh, looking at him again, "So Rick keeps telling me."

The Doctor gave him a small too, "Your husband is a very smart man, Mrs. Grimes," she told him, "You should listen to him."

She snorted. "Let's get you checked."

"Can we make the ultrasound first—I—I want to hear it."

Her face was so open—her expression took his breath away, and for a moment all Rick wanted to do was to kiss her—kiss her until he couldn't breath—have her completely—his wife—his beautiful wife, wanting his babies—wanting _him_… always him.

The doctor stood up, nodding. "Of course." He pointed at them, and Amanda climbed on the examination chair again, this time her legs closed, and took her sweater off.

She opened her stomach and hissed as the doctor applied the gel over it—She smiled, "It's very cold," she mumbled, and turned to look at him, her face still having that expression—smiling, her eyes glistened with unshed tears… then she started trembling.

He took her hand again between his hands and kissed her fingers. "Hey—hey—it's okay—" he whispered at her as the doctor took the apparatus, and she let out a long, breathy sigh, her eyes fluttering close, still trembling faintly… The doctor smiled at him, "The first time is always unique."

He put it across her stomach, and across the screen a grey and black and whiteness appeared and started moving, "Where is it?" she asked, craning her neck aside, "Can I see it?"

The doctor pointed at a little dot, as big as a plump as he typed a few commands at the keyboard below the screen, "See it?" She nodded, her smile growing, Rick squeezed her hand, "I'll focus on the heartbeat."

She let out another languorous breath, and they listened to small but steady breaths echoed—the sound amplified through the ultrasound, and her tears slowly started dropping. Her hand still in his, Rick leaned down and kissed at the top of her head. She looked up at him… "Rick—" she muttered out, her voice so low, so full of emotion…she stopped, like she always did—couldn't find the words, but they weren't needed. They always understood each other. Always.

So, he kissed her briefly, and whispered again, "I know, baby, I know…"

Then the doctor made that sound… "Oh."

Her nails dug into his skin…as terror caught her… "What?" she roughed out, "What happened?"

His heart in his throat, Rick lifted his eyes up at the doctor and saw a smile across his lips, "This…" the man told him, twisting to them a little, "Listen to this."

Rick frowned a little—as the sounds of heartbeats grew louder—in a rhythm but it was disrupted, as if a broken metronome—a distorted pendulum—having two beats all together—then slowly as if he was getting out of deep waters of unconsciousness into the moment, he realized there were indeed two beats…two _distinctive_ beats echoing in the room.

He lifted his head again and his eyes found hers—and watched her as she realized it too… "Rick?" she whispered at him as Rick turned to the doctor.

"Doc?" he rasped out forcefully, "Is it…?"

The man nodded, "Yes. Two heartbeats." He smiled, "I can see now why you're having such morning sickness," the doctor stated, "B-HCG hormone doubles up in the multiple pregnancies."

Her lips quavered, and she whispered again, "Multiple pregnancies?"

The doctor nodded again, smiling, "Yes, Mrs. Grimes, you're expecting twins."

* * *

_All right, so, we have twins, too! I just couldn't help... :)_

_Amanda wants many children so badly-so, lol, let's see her deal with that. He he._

_And...we're moving on the plot, too...finally!_


	10. Chapter 10

X.

There was a droning in her ear—like siren, a continuous buzz as Amanda looked ahead, her head still spinning, the world blinking in and out of existence, blurry as words turned and turned in her mind in a loop, like an endless chord…an endless repetition—an endless ribbon of letters—attached one to the other, echoing in her, in her every fiber of being—

_Yes, Mrs. Grimes, you're expecting twins… You're expecting twins… You're expecting twins… _

She'd heard people experienced such kind catatonic episodes in a collapse—and a small—the smallest part of her brain tried to register into her what was happening—that she was going into shock—

Twins?

She was going to have _twins…_?

She was trembling again—she couldn't help—they ran over her like a flood, and she heard Rick calling at her again— "Amanda—" His tone was a bit louder this time, having a certain panic in it, too, she could still notice.

She turned her head to him, "Twins?" she asked, couldn't manage to form up anything else.

God, she wanted them. She so much wanted children—as many as possible—but twins… How she was going to manage with twins? How they would—when things were like this…

The doctor pressed the first picture of her babies—and Amanda looked at it… barely setting apart two little plumps in the black-white-and-grey but they were there, she could see it… she smiled, her eyes still fixated at the snapshot, tears running over her cheek… Her babies… her beautiful babies… And lifted her head up and found Rick—and she smiled wider at him… They did it—they created those beautiful things—just like they had so wanted—a boy and a girl…they must be—they must be a boy and a girl, a girl with her hair and Rick's eyes, and a boy with his hair and her eyes, just like she'd wished… He leaned down and kissed her hair, still holding her hand… She felt herself melting…

"Now—" the doctor told her, standing up from his stool. She stayed at the examination chair, as he turned off the ultrasound machine, and walked back to his desk. "I know it's shocking, learning it, especially how things are—" he continued, Amanda followed him, twisting aside, she just couldn't trust herself with talking right now, "but you must keep up." The man paused, giving her a searching look, and asked, "How much do you weigh?"

She blinked— "I—I don't know," she mumbled out—she didn't weigh for a while, but she knew she'd lost weight in the last month, constantly throwing up—"Should be around one-hundred-five pounds—" she said, "or less—I lost weight in the last week."

"You must be more careful now—you're going to have to carry two babies…" he told her, and she gulped—understanding his point—she was fucking tiny! "How tall are you?" he questioned further, proving her point, "Five-four inch?"

She shook her head, and muttered, "Five-five…"

The doctor gave her a criticizing look, but there was something in his eyes too—a suspicion, and his eyes skipped at Rick and they shared a belief glance. She frowned. "What is it?" she demanded, looking back and forth between them…

Then she understood. It was _her_… She was going to have to give birth to twins—at the same time!

Out of sudden, it rushed at her—sweeping her like a flood—and she understood—she fucking understood it!

OH GOD!

She had grown so happy, so fucking happy, happiest of all of her life, her mind must have stopped working!

Most of the times twins needed C-section, it was hard to give birth in natural way in the multiple pregnancies, and the babies almost always were born premature—needing special treatment—and what if…what if… The scenarios started running in her mind in a rapid fire… panic and terror taking her, tears raising inside of her, this time from fright…

"Amanda—" Rick called at her, as if he was beginning to understand her panic.

Amanda shook her head… How they were going to manage it? How she was even going to carry _two_ babies at the same time? No, she couldn't… She _was_ tiny! It was even the first fucking the doctor had wanted to know…because he got afraid… Her babies were going to be premature because _her_. She wouldn't be able to keep them inside her for whole nine months… Sobs broke out of her…

She brought her hands up over her face, and started crying—freely—openly… It was her fault… if she hadn't been like…this… if she'd been a bit heavier, a bit less taller—a bit…sturdier… She fucking hated herself!

"Amanda—" Rick held her, but she shook her head, still covered behind her hands. Her babies…her babies were in danger because of her… what if they…what if they needed an NICU—how could they do it?

"I give you some privacy," the doctor told them, but Amanda didn't fucking care. She just sat at the chair, and cried—She was ruining everything… every fucking thing.

"_I fucking hate it!_" she cried out, lifting her head up away from her hands. She did—she fucking did—she was good for nothing.

"Amanda—stop it—" His voice this time was stern, a low but firm timber as he ordered her, and sat beside her at the chair's edge, "Just stop it."

"Look at _me_—" she cried out again, gestured wildly at herself, shaking his hands off her upper arms, "_How_ I'm going to give birth to twins, Rick?" she asked, looking at him… "The doctor thought it—you thought it. I'm _not_ stupid!" she shouted, "I saw the look you shared! You both thought about it!"

Rick grabbed her again at her upper arms and shook her, "_Stop it!_" his voice raised as he snapped at her, "Just stop!" he breathed forcefully out of his nose, and closed his eyes…

Her movements ceased, but she didn't know it was because of the command, or his rasping voice or because the thing in his eyes… He opened his eyes and looked at her directly in the eyes, his fingers digging at her, "Stop it…" he repeated, this time a bit softer, but the edge was still in it, "There is nothing wrong with _you_." He paused, shaking his head, "Please… Stop doing this to yourself."

She swallowed through her sobs, and tears ran away again… she knew he was right…she knew she was being an idiot again… but she couldn't help it…that thing—that thing was always with her—no matter how she tried—no matter how much she worked—no matter how much she struggled, it just stood there—deep down…like a taint over a surface… it wasn't just going away. She knew it wasn't truth—she knew there _wasn't_ anything wrong with her—she knew it…she just couldn't _feel_ it…

But her insecurities were insecurities, this—this was reality. She let out a breath, "It isn't just _me_, Rick—" she told him then, "I know sometimes my…insecurities get better of me…I know it…but…" She gave him a look, "You've been having nightmares, Rick…" His eyes darkened, "Don't tell me they weren't about me…"

He dropped his arms off her, as if he was caught. She shook her head, heaving out deeply again… the pot calling the kettle black… "I know this girl…" she told him then, "She was like me, got a small figure. She got twins… the babies…the babies…" she swallowed, "They had to stay in special care for two weeks…" She shook her head again, tears filling in her eyes back, the way she'd seen the babies… tubes attached to their little noses— "They couldn't even breathe properly…"

The beeps of the machines blared in her mind… as they kept the little angels and—and they didn't even have that now! What if…what if her babies really needed NICU—it was even hard to find a doctor… how they were going to find an intensive care unit for babies…

But Rick shook his head, fierce in his refusal, "No—" he told her sternly, "Our babies are okay. _You_ are okay." His eyes darkened even further, "I'll keep them safe. I'll keep you safe." He cupped her cheeks with both hands, "Nothing—_nothing_ is gonna happen to them. I promise."

Her breath hitched, and she nodded, and moved on him—and her arms wrapped around him tightly... She wanted him…she wanted to feel him—so, so badly, so desperately—to make her believe.

# # #

As she winded down between in his arms, Rick slowly caressed her hair and her back, holding her, trying to let go off the same scare she had felt—

Twins?

He was going to a father to twins. His happiness had been short-lived as the doctor had started asking her questions and for a moment Rick had really wished to hurt the man—for asking her those questions, for putting her in further anxiety, but he could hardly blame the doctor as well.

Rick had felt the fright then—and of course, Amanda had caught him on that. She was right, this was going to be hard, it'd already started hard, but Rick wasn't going to let anything happen to them, _never_.

They were going to be safe. He was going to make sure of that.

He didn't know how yet, but he was going to find out. Amanda had been right in her fears for that matter, like always, the fact he didn't want her to over worry still didn't mean she didn't have a point in her worries. The images from his dream assaulted him—the way he searched for her through the prison's bloodied dirty corridors—his ax in his hands, walkers all around them…

He shook his head mentally and chased off the scene… Amanda was going to be okay. The babies were going to okay. He would never let them anything happen to them. He would never let anything happen to any of them… He pulled her closer at his chest, and inhaled her scent deeply…the woman who carried two pieces of him inside her…the woman who loved him so fiercely…

She evened out a shaken languorous breath as his lips found her neck, and gave her a kiss, "We—they must be waiting for us," she whispered.

He nodded, "I know…"

"We should go…" she said, but her hands were already pulling him closer…

His head tilting upward, he licked her jawline, "I know…"

She started skipping down at the examination chair in a weird angle, and opened her legs a little in invitation, "They will worry about us…"

"Let them," Rick said back, nesting himself between her legs. He just couldn't care about it at the moment, just wanted to feel her—feel her heartbeat—feel her under him—feel her clasping around him…pulsing like heartbeat, burning—craving… The mother of his babies—growing inside her—the babies she so desperately wanted, and Rick had given them to her. Everything she'd ever wanted—he had given them to her. He had put babies she wanted inside her belly, and now he was going to make sure they would be safe. All of them. Together.

He then leaned down and started kissing her.

She made out a raspy, throaty moan as his lips and tongue hungrily searched through hers. It put him in a further frenzy, and his hand found her trousers…

"Rick—" she breathed out, tearing her lips away from him tilting her chin up, "Rick—we—" she trembled, twisting under him, but still mumbled, "We can't…we…shouldn't..."

They shouldn't… but…he didn't want to stop. He wanted to do this… He wanted her. He didn't care. He wanted to feel her, fluttering around him, wrapping around him, twisting under him, staring at him as he fucked her, her nails clawing across his back, gnawing at his shoulder desperate… He wanted her, he wanted to fuck her, fuck her like there was no tomorrow… He lifted his head, and gave her a heated look, "Do you want us to stop?"

Stopped her movements, she stilled, and stared at him long—then she started laughing softly, low husky laughter falling out of her, and she shook her head at him, wrapping her legs around him calves—"Rick Grimes," she purred, "What—_what_ I am going to do with you?"

He gave her a little smirk, "For now—" and his hands started opening her zipper, "Let me fuck you."

She swallowed and raised herself toward him, "Well then, my dear husband…" she whispered at him, "have your ways."

And he did, their eyes glued at each other…he did his ways. She belonged with him…always, from the start… her place was always with him, just beside him. She was his. Pounding in her savage, he captured her gaze, "You're mine—" he growled out, holding her wrists trapped between his hand, much like the night he had broken her down, and bit her at the corner of her mouth where he'd bitten her for the first time, "_Tell me._"

And looking back at him directly, her insides fluttering around him, her body twisting under him just the way he wanted, she did, "I'm yours," she told him in a whisper, then her lips found his, and she gnawed at his lower lip in answer— "and you're mine."

And he was too.

# # #

He crashed on her, spilling himself out in her depths, their clothes still on their backs, her wrists still in his clutch… Shaking with trembles, Amanda deeply sighed out, shaking her head, but stayed where she was under him, only pulled her hands free and loosely looped them around his neck— "I can't believe we did it…on this _thing_—" she muttered out.

Rick grunted out of his nose in answer, "You—didn't oppose."

She shrugged, "I can't seem to say no to you, Rick."

"Yeah…" he said, making a lazy circle at her upper arm, his head still on her shoulder, and despite the words both still weren't making a move to pull away from each other.

He didn't know what had happened to him. He just snapped. Desire, lust…love…everything in him had snapped, shutting out everything else in his mind, shutting off all logic in him. If this was how was going to be with her now, Rick was in a deep trouble. He couldn't even imagine how his reaction was going to be seeing her with her swollen belly. His eyes lifted toward her, and he caught the sigh of her corner of the mouth where he'd bitten her—a faint hickey already forming up with a teeth mark—his mark—and his insides growled again with satisfaction seeing it… his mind fulling with images how he'd grabbed her wrists tightly—even considering tying her again with his belt—he gave himself a mental shake, and pushed the thought away… He should get a grip, get a fucking grip.

He started pulling out of her. He needed to cool his head off. This didn't help anything, and he was getting overwhelmed. He couldn't let that happen. He still had things to do. He needed to form up a plan, talked to Jesus, to his own people. They still needed to decide when to go to that Kingdom and have a chat with that King. He couldn't do it like this.

"We—we need to cool off—" he roughed out forcefully, standing up, and started zipping himself back.

Skidding her legs over the examination chair, Amanda nodded. "Yeah…probably." Her gaze skipped aside, and she shook her head, "I still can't fucking believe it—" Her eyes moved to the door, "Is it even locked?"

Turning to the door, adjusting his belt, Rick reached out his hand and cracked the door open slightly, "Apparently not."

She let out a sigh, hopping down from the chair, and took a few wet napkins and started wiping the chair, leaning over it.

"What are you doing?" he asked her from her back—trying not to look at her bent over figure, her round little back asset clear at his sight—Goodness!

Twisting her neck aside, she gave him a chilling look, "I'm _cleaning_ it—" she answered pointedly, "We can't leave it like this. It's gross." She shook her head again, "If we were caught, no one would've ever believed it was _your_ fault."

He chuckled out faintly and wrapped his arms from her back around her waist as she straightened up— "Caught me," he whispered at her.

With another look over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes at him, and Rick just wanted them to be back at home again. They should be in the bed, basking in happiness, laying naked, enjoying each other's company—just be together. "We—we should go back to home," he told her then.

She looked at him again, "Now?"

He nodded. "We need to cool off—" he repeated, "Take a breath off. I just learned I'm gonna a father to twins. I—We come back tomorrow and go to Kingdom." He paused, "We just need today off."

She sighed out and nodded, too, "Yeah… I'm not in the mood to make new friends myself, either," she mumbled, and gave him a look again, twisting her neck aside... "And it's probably best to keep you away from them when you're like _this_…"

His eyes grew heated, "Hmm… when I'm like what?"

"You know—"

His lips found her neck again, "Tell me."

She laughed, twirling in his embrace to face with him, "My point exactly—" She wrapped her arms around his neck, "Demanding—" and started counting, "Possessive, imperative…commanding."

"Doesn't sound so bad—"

She smiled, "Nope." She gave a look at his lips, "You have a hickey at your lips," she stated then.

He chuckled out, "Someone _else_ is very possessive, too."

She hummed out, "Hmm mmm…"

His hand raised, and caressed her lips too, "You have one, too, by the way."

"I _know_." She slipped out of his arms, and sighed again, "everyone will know what's we were up to."

Rick shrugged. "Let them."

She gave him a stony look, "You know we're to make new friends here. I'd like to see them without teeth marks, if it's not too much to ask." She took a step closer to him, "Besides, you could always bite…my other parts, too."

"Hmm? Where?"

She gave him a mocking look, "Well, dear husband, use your imagination."

He caught her again at her waist, and turned her around, resting her back against his chest, "Be careful what you wish for, Mrs. Grimes," he growled out in her ear.

She giggled out, "Oh my god!" she breathed out, "I—I think I've created a monster out of you."

"I thought I was a sucker…"

"A sucker monster…" she shot back as he laughed at her.

She sighed deeply, relaxing in his arms further, and her hands took the picture of their babies—she bowed her down, looking at it, and over her shoulder, he saw her eyes getting glistened again. "I still can't believe it, Rick—" she whispered out, her fingers caressing around their little miracles at the picture.

In answer, he kissed her at the juncture where her neck met with her shoulder, "Tell me," she told him then, her voice as demanding as his… "Tell me, Rick."

And understanding, Rick did, "Everything will be okay," he told her back, tightening his arms, "I'll keep y'all safe. I promise."

# # #

"Twins?" Beth exclaimed, looking at her, and smiling Amanda nodded.

Her scares were still there, just that the fringe of her consciousness, but now—everything felt better… _I'll keep you safe… I promise._

And Amanda could always trust Rick on that. Always.

They were going to be okay. She wasn't sure how yet—she knew it was going to be hard, but she knew they were going to manage it—together. They could manage everything as long as they were together. She could always trust that, as well.

"We're going back?" Beth asked her, and she nodded. Rick had gone to talk with Jesus, and Amanda had opted to stay back, really not wanting these people see her with hickeys and teeth marks adorning her—at least from a close range. They were going to come back later and left for the Kingdom, and Amanda could deal with it back at home. Funny enough, Deanne used to have some concealer back at her house, and funnier, Amanda had never thought she could've needed it for a such an occasion.

She smiled further, recalling what had happened back at the container. She wondered briefly if her current…winded down state was a product of that—orgasms always calmed you down—but it wasn't only that. It was the way Rick had been—the whole possession—the strengthen, the will—emitting out of his every pore and it was…so easy to let yourself go in his current and be flooded by it—and knew everything was going to be okay as long as you…had him.

It was even heavier than what Beth had always used to tell her, how it was truly lucky to have Rick to think you as his family. It was more than that now—more demanding, more powerful, more compelling…and she was compelled, sometimes it felt like she was compelled, enthralled until her last atom—he was everything she'd ever wanted—had ever yearned for—and he gave her everything she had ever wanted to… His babies…growing inside her… Her little miracles…

Her hand went to her stomach—and she smiled at Beth again, "I—I've never been happier and more scared all in my life like today, Beth," she confessed, "I—I just want them."

Her friend smiled at her back and gave her a hug, "You'll make such a great mom, Amanda."

Amanda hugged her friend back. "Do you want to see them?" she asked the younger woman after they'd pulled back from each other's embrace.

Beth nodded eagerly. She fished her picture out of her pocket and showed it to Beth. "They're really very little, huh?" she told the younger woman, and pointed the little darkened plump in the middle, "I think he's a boy—do you see it…he looks like a boy—Don't you think he looks like Rick—I swear he looks like Rick…and this one is my girl—I think she…looks like Rick, too…"

# # #

Back at home, they showed the first picture of their siblings to Carl and Judith together. Carl smiled at them genuinely and hugged them—for real. She hugged the young teenage boy tightly, "They're gonna be so lucky to have a big brother like you, Carl," she told him as Rick hopped Judith in his embrace.

"Wanna see new babies, sweetie?" he asked her, laughing at her, "You're gonna be the big sister now—"

Amanda laughed, turning to them—and took Judith back from him. "My girl is so gonna be the best big sister in the world, don't you, sweetheart?" She laughed, rubbing her nose at her soft skin along her neck playfully, "The best big sister in the whole world…"

She was so happy—she was so fucking happy it actually started hurting… She wondered if someone would really die from happiness…and she guessed it wasn't possible, because it had been, she was sure as hell she could've bitten to dust long by now. Or maybe she just did and went to heaven.

In their room, as soon as they closed the door, they jumped on each other—Amanda literally. She jumped on his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, and he carried her to the bed, already kissing her hungrily.

She was at home—she was…fulfilled, the man she loved in her arms, in _her_, fulling her—filling her every emptiness—and his babies inside her growing, and his other babies sleeping next to their room—safe and protected, and for the first time in her life, Amanda felt it—running through her like a wildfire, she felt for the first time in her life she was just what she wanted to be.

And…and there was nothing wrong with that. There was nothing wrong with her, and she knew what she was.

She was Amanda Grimes.

* * *

_I thought we could go to the Kingdom within this chapter, but Rick didn't listen to me, so this happened instead... It just felt they needed to take a breath out after learning about twins as their relationship moved into another level, being more like a two halves of a whole._


	11. Chapter 11

XI.

The next day had started fast.

Rick had called in another assembly to inform the townspeople what they had decided at Hilltop. The whole town were inside the church once again, seated at the benches, and Amanda could swear everyone at least _once_ gave her a side look, eyes skipping at her belly.

The words of the twins had spread like rapid fire in the town yesterday. Amanda tried not to read too much from the glances they shot at her, but instead pretended she wasn't aware. There was speculation in the eyes—she could feel it—the same bewilderment she and Rick had felt both—eyes silently asking _twins?_ even though lips stayed silent, but Amanda pretended she didn't notice, either.

They were going to do it. She was going to do it. She was going to have her babies. Rick was going to keep them safe. Amanda was going to do whatever she must do to bring her little miracles in the world. Nothing could stop it. _Nothing_. Though she had an inkling that _Rick_ might have other ideas about it. She was already expecting him come her to tell that perhaps she should stay back—just like he'd done before the dry on—he was going to keep her safe—her and the babies—but Amanda didn't know.

She wished they could've stayed in their home forever, in their bed, in each other's embrace, being happy, being so fucking happy she thought she could die of it but it was a new day now, and it was time to get up and fight. For their family. To give them a better world. She couldn't stay back.

"It's not an if situation again, but a _when_—" Rick repeated his words back when they'd first learned about the herd, standing up at the altar, his eyes fixed at the crowd, "We go to them, before they come for us."

It was still that simple, as well. Amanda hadn't heard his speech at the quarry at the dry on before shit hit the fan, but she'd heard about _it_, and Rick had the same zest emitting out of his every pore again, his strength mixed with a promise of violence, and it was still funny how it soothed Amanda down.

She sighed out mentally. If they kept this go on, things might turn—interesting. Very interesting. Maybe it was because of her heightened level of hormones or his knowledge of babies inside her, but they had put the bar to another level. It was quite clear from the way Rick had fucked her at the examination chair—holding her wrists tightly, trapping her under him—making her stare at him as he had his ways with her—making her call herself _his_… Amanda hadn't minded it—not really, in fact she had rather enjoyed it—enjoyed it quite a _lot_, possibly more than she should have.

Perhaps it was really because of her hormones playing with her now, she must've got them all rocketed up to the sky with a multiple pregnancy, but all in frankness Amanda wasn't surprised, either, not really. They were both very passionate people. She could still remember how she'd ended up getting banged in the church, and that savage, fierce intimacy had been always with them, from the very start; they had started biting each other even before kissing...but the problem was that it was _really_ so easy to let go when he was like that, just let herself go in his current, and lost herself—be lost in him—give him everything, and well, Amanda knew very well how Icarus fell—soaring too high at the sky—getting so close to the sun…

The old lady who had used to tell them if they looked for trouble, they would find one, also used to tell if they played with fire they would get burned.

She was fucking loving being Amanda Grimes, for the first time in her life, she really felt like loving herself, for being who she was, and it was because of him, because of what he was giving her, but Amanda still didn't want to get burned. There had to be some balance. She needed to find it again but finding her balance had never been simple after she'd met Rick.

The damn man was making everything quite a challenge for her.

Her eyes caught at him again—her insides swelling with emotions, affection and lust at the same time running over her—and this time she sighed out—she was so hooped. She put her hand over her stomach—trying to find peace—trying to feel how it might be having a swollen belly…

She could swear she was feeling it, a gentle ramp bulging her stomach slightly, but she wasn't sure if it was her own imagination or not. She was in her ninth week; Dr. Carson had confirmed it yesterday before they had left. She must have a little bump now. She got twins. It must be visible by now and it wasn't—not very much, and Amanda tried to push away from her mind what that might mean. There was nothing wrong with her. _Nothing_.

She was still throwing up—she had thrown this morning, like usual. But everything was okay. _She_ was okay. The doctor had also warned her that the twin pregnancy made mothers sicker because of the heightened hormones and it could take longer before the sickness passed out, but Amanda didn't care. If she needed to put a tube through her nose to get herself fed, she was gonna do it herself!

Whatever would take to make her babies well and safe. Whatever… She'd even tried to eat eggs this morning. No one could say she wasn't trying…

A part of her wanted to take out her picture again and look at her babies, give them a kiss—caress the little pouches in the middle of her womb…her miracles. She shivered. She just so much wanted to feel them in her—feel them moving in her—giving her little kicks—her little monsters. If they took it after their father they were going to keep her awake all night. Her lips pulled out into a little smile on their own at the thought, imaging herself like that—whining at Rick—making him to tie her boots because she couldn't even bend down because of her big, big, swollen belly… She almost giggled out and pressed it down into her throat and forced her attention back to the meeting.

She needed to get a fucking grip! Soon they were going to participate in an action that every strategy manual would classify as a clear act of war. She couldn't do it like this. Rick needed her to be at her best game. Her babies, Alexandria, Rick…they all needed her to be in her usual devious, manipulative, canny ways—not daydreaming about making her husband tying her shoelaces.

They couldn't have talked about much about the plan yesterday, learning about the twins had sort of screwed up their timeline, making them to take a day off but now they needed to get up and fight. They couldn't do anything else. Like Rick had said they had to go to Sanctuary before Sanctuary came for them. Sanctuary got the numbers, got more guns. The best course of action would be to create a distraction then bust them with a surprise attack.

"What's the plan then?" Carol asked, questioning it as if on a cue.

"We go today to talk with Kingdom," Rick answered, "They're another community under Negan's rule. If we can convince them to ally with us, we can manage to build up a joint force to lead a surprise attack."

"If they knew what happened to Hilltop, would they dare it?" Leon, a barely twenty years old from the construction team asked, "Negan could do to them what he did to Hilltop, too."

"And that's why they need to fight," Rick said back, rising his voice, "Negan _will_ do what he did to Hilltop to everyone else. That's what isn't an if, but a when!" He paused, "If they want to live, they gotta fight—" His eyes wandered around them, "Just like us."

Amanda stood up, "Remember what happened with Wolves?" she spoke up, climbing at the altar at the next side, where she belonged—she belonged with him—always beside him, "We didn't look for them, we couldn't and they found us at the end. There's always something _worse_ out there. But we can't let them take it away from us—" She waved her hand, "This. Our home. Alexandria. We fought for it. We paid for it. Paid with our blood and tears. We're not giving it away." She paused for a second, "Once a very clever, wise man said _let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt,"_ she intoned Sun Tzu's old words, "We'll fall on them like a thunderbolt. They won't know what hit them."

Just like Wolves had done to them, but Amanda kept that part to herself. The Wolves had known Alexandria got the numbers and guns, and Wolves got intel in return. So, they had just sat on duck and waited until their time come, until Rick and the rest of the teams left for the dry on and hit them.

Their positions were reversed now with Sanctuary, and _that_ was what they should do too. They couldn't sit down and wait—time was ticking away, but basically they needed to "divide and conquer."

Rick nodded beside him. "Amanda is right," he said, reading her mind even before they talked about it, "We know his outposts, we know his base. We create a distraction first, flush them out then we strike at Sanctuary."

Eugene stepped out, standing up, "Like Aragorn marching to the Black Gate?" he asked as Amanda tossed a glance at Rick, who stood giving the man a hard look, but unless her there seemed to be a sort of understanding in his eyes, "to distract the Eye's distraction, so Frodo could slip into Mount Doom and throw off the ring?"

"I—I don't have any slightest idea what you're talking about—" Amanda told the weirdo, turning back to him, "but sounds like a plan."

"It's Lord of the Rings—" Daryl said from backseats, "And aye, sounds like a plan." He paused, "And I've got an idea."

# # #

"Amanda, how can you not know it?" Rick almost exclaimed as they walked back from the church, "It's the Lord of the Rings!"

"_I'm sorry_!" she exclaimed back, "I didn't know I'd need to rip off its plot in the apocalypse to kick a maniac's ass!"

He threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer to his side. For each time he really thought she couldn't be surprised of her—she managed to get him stand corrected. He shook his head again, "Baby, you just quoted from Sun Tzu there—" he told her, "How come did you read Sun Tzu but didn't even watch Lord of the Rings?"

She rolled her eyes at him, "Pfft. Sun Tzu is great for strategy and schemes—" She tilted her head aside, and gave him a look, "Besides, we're ripping off the Wolves' plan—not that Lord of something."

"Hmm…"

"Even with the truck thing," she added.

Rick shrugged. Well, there was that too. It might work. It had to work. They got no other option. Rick wasn't kidding at that part, too. They had to go to Negan before Negan came for them. If they managed to hit at the man with a clean, killer strike, they could finish this even before it fully started.

And Rick had to finish it. They needed to be safe. He needed to go out and look for supplies—perhaps even an intensive care for babies in some hospital, or maybe other communities and he couldn't do it before that threat at the north to be dealt with.

He was going to keep them safe—their babies—he was going to keep them safe. Whatever it took, it didn't matter. He was going to.

He titled his head down at her, "Did you eat today?"

She nodded, "A bit. Even managed to hold the egg whites too."

Satisfied, he nodded. The eggs were very precious, their four chickens only produced a dozen or so eggs in a week, and they'd decided to distribute the protein store to the those who got most of the points in the system as the fee. Maggie had gotten winded down after she got two eggs, and Rick was having another two for, and Amanda needed to at least eat the whites—though the yolks were the real protein source.

"Tomorrow I'll try the yolks again, I promise," she told him then, a small tiredness in her voice, a tiredness she was trying to hide from him.

And once again the feeling was with him—the urge to keep her safe—secure and protect… He wanted to bring her back to their room, lay her in the bed, take her under him—keep her there where she could be safe—where he knew she could be safe… She…she should stay in. Lowering his hand over her shoulder, he stopped in front of their porch and turned to her.

"Amanda—" he started, getting his tone firmer, "I've been thinking on it since the morning—" she frowned as he started speaking, "Maybe you should sit out this." He paused, "We don't know truly how this Kingdom is gonna be." And he wasn't fucking liking it. He had to keep her safe. He couldn't let them anything happen to them.

"They helped Hilltop," Amanda said back, "Jesus said he's a friend."

"And we trust Jesus now?" Rick asked in return, arching one eyebrow.

"He could've betrayed us, but he didn't," Amanda pointed out.

"As far as we know—" Rick pointed out back.

As far as they knew… and they still didn't know it truly. They had never known it.

Amanda looked at him long, then shook her head. "I don't know, Rick—" she said as if she was struggling with it either, "One part of me wants to stay back, but the other—" She shook her head again. "I feel like I have to do this…get up and fight. For our family, our babies. Nothing is certain anymore. I hate it, but it's a fact, too. Maybe it's the reason why Deanne put that note on her desk, Rick," she said slowly, and repeated the former leader Alexandria words, "_Death is certain, life is not_. I stayed back once, wanted to protect myself from trouble, but trouble still found me—found us."

And there was that, too. Trouble found them whether they looked for it or not. The Wolves had attacked, and he hadn't been there to protect them—he had been out there, trying to protect them from another disaster, making a choice to trust them to deal with their own problems.

Could he make the same choice now, too? When she got their babies inside her?

"I have to be there, Rick," she said again, "I'm not going to participate in any real fighting, but I can't stay here. You need me there, not stressing myself overthinking. And that's _what_ I'm gonna do if stay back. I'm trying not to…but you know me…" she said with a sigh.

And she would. He knew her. He'd caught her today a few times looking at her stomach a few times… her stomach wasn't still showing off much, and he just knew she'd started getting worried over it, too. There was nothing with her—she knew it as a fact, but getting her to feel that fact—well, Rick had learned his wife's gigs by now… but still, those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones… For that regard, Rick wasn't any better—maybe only slightly better—He still had the same nightmares—even the thought of losing her…

No. Nothing was going to happen to her. _Nothing_.

"I'm also better at making new friends," Amanda continued, "I wouldn't mind mingling with Hilltop's crowd, too, get an air of the community. I don't think Jesus betrayed us but there still can be spies…" She paused, giving him a side look, "You're afraid of it, too. I know."

And he was, from the start. None had followed them while on the road, Rick had been careful, and he hadn't seen anything unordinary—but it didn't mean there wasn't anything—and if there was indeed a spy, then they were fucked…

"Besides, Sanctuary is out of the range for the radio, but Hilltop and Kingdom is," she listed another reason, and Rick had started if she actually had prepared a list in her mind, expecting him trying to keep her back at home, and possibly she had… "We can stay in contact if I still stay at Hilltop when you lead the attack at Sanctuary. They have a long range walkie-talkie."

Shaking his head, he started laughing, "Amanda!" he exclaimed, "Did you prepare a list or what?"

She came closer at his side, taking his hand, "You still didn't hear the best one…" she said back.

"What's it?"

She smiled back at him, "I'm always safe with you, Rick."

Making a sound out of his nose, he shook his head at her again, leaning down towards her, "You're damn good at this…"

# # #

One hour later, they were climbing into the RV, a team of ten in total, they'd taken only Spencer and Glenn with them from the council, but took instead of Abraham and Sasha again, Michonne was coming too like before, and so Daryl and Beth, and this time Carl had wanted to come as well, and Rick let him.

They crammed into the motor home as Rick decided they all would journey with one vehicle and Amanda wished they hadn't. The interior were so crowded her stomach started heaving again—and they had to stop before they arrived to Hilltop.

Straightening back from the ditch at the road after she'd finished emptying her belly, she took the water bottle from Rick, and rinsed her mouth. "You okay?" he asked her.

She nodded, and walked back to the motor home. "Sorry—" she mumbled out, climbing back inside, and sat down back at her seat. Rick came to her side a second later and took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Turning to him, she gave him a small smile, resting her head at his shoulder.

When they arrived to Hilltop, Amanda directly went to find the doctor. He was in front of the container, preparing. She stopped as the man took his backpack. "You're coming with us?"

The doctor nodded. "I make monthly rounds at the Kingdom as a part of our deal," he explained, "They don't have a medic. They got a nurse, and I'm also training her."

She nodded back, realizing that was what they needed to do as well. The doctor could train Denise as well! Prepare her for the delivery and such. They would need to forsake the location of Alexandria but if they would deal with Negan, perhaps—perhaps they could really form up a real alliance, learn from each other—just like Deanne had wanted. "We—we could do the same after we deal with Negan," she told him then, "We got a therapist back at home, but her expertise isn't really in making stitches."

Understanding her, the doctor nodded. "I'd love that—" He paused, "I think you'd need to make a trade for—it," he continued, "But I'd really like that."

"We will—" she said in answer, and asked him what she'd come for, "Can you not give me something to settle my stomach? I'm trying to eat, but I don't think it's working."

"Give me your right hand—" the doctor ordered her then, and Amanda quickly obliged, raising it to the man. The doctor took it and turned it upward, and placed three fingers on her skin just above her wrists. "This's a pressure point of energy flow toward the lower abdomen. If you do this for every four hours or so, it might help with nausea. It's called acupressure, an old Chinese alternative medicine technique."

She gave the doctor a look as he held his fingers pressed on her skin, a bit skeptical a bit—curious but a few moments later, she started feeling it, a slow heat rising over her body—toward her stomach—she lifted her head, "It's—weird."

"Good?" the doctor asked.

She nodded, "Yeah…soothing." It was… Heat was soothing.

The man smiled back a bit... "There're a few other points too. I'm gonna show them to you later on the road—" he said, and dropped her hand, "You also can have ginger tea, if you can find. Ginger is good for the stomach. And B vitamin."

"Thank you, doc—" she told them man back with a faint smile herself, "I'm gonna make you acorn and beets cookies when you come visit us back at home."

"Acorn and beets?"

She nodded seriously. "It's a special recipe of a friend of mine… You're gonna love it."

The man gave her another look, "Sounds interesting…"

She nodded again with a look, "It _is_."

She turned and started looking for Rick. They should leave now—before the noon, so they could use the daylight the best. Rick was with Jesus in front of the mansion, their eyes wandering the grounds. It still hurt her seeing the community like this in ruins—making her imagine how it would be if Negan ever found them. She pushed the thought away too. Alexandria belonged to them. They could never let this happen to her. Never.

Looking at the yard, her eyes caught the man she recognized as Ethan walking around. She frowned and turned to the men. "The place used to be a sort of school building. They based the community around it—" The new leader of Hilltop was explaining Rick about their new friends, "They're good people. Even Saviors show them a sort of respect, let them carry weapons. They're good, but a bit…old-fashioned."

Amanda arched one eyebrow. "Old-fashioned?" she asked, and snorted back, "Don't tell me they got a king or something…"

Jesus gave her a look in return. She stared at the man. "You're kidding."

The former recruiter shrugged off, "They're called Kingdom for a reason."

Amanda let out a faint sigh. Sometimes she really couldn't get it… the world had ended, and it all turned to a madhouse. Her eyes found again the man who had killed Gregory, and Rick followed her gaze too

"What's he doing?" Rick asked then, pointing the man with his head.

"Ethan?" Jesus asked, confusion in his voice.

Rick nodded, "Why he's still walking freely?" he questioned, "He killed Gregory. You need to deal with him."

Ah. Amanda turned her eyes to Jesus. "He was threatened," the other countered, his eyes narrowing a little.

"And he still killed someone," Rick said in return, "You can't let him go like this. He's also a liability. Isn't his brother still in the outpost?"

"With others, yes," Jesus said, "Saviors take wards. They did it too before. The first time they came."

She pursed her lips, "You mean hostages?"

"They call it…wards."

She scoffed, "Perception management," she shot back, "Saviors take wards, Sanctuary takes hostages. Doesn't change the truth."

Rick gave the other a stern look, "Aye, still doesn't change the truth. You shouldn't keep killers inside your walls."

Jesus looked back at him, "What do you suggest then? Put him in prison? We don't have one."

Rick stared at the man back, "Back at home we got our first rule: We don't burry killers inside our walls," and watched the other man understand what the words meant.

"I'm not going to order anyone's execution," Jesus told him back as his meaning sunk in him.

"You should—" Rick countered, and it all started like a deja-vu for Amanda. They had had this conversation before.

"This's an argument for later—" she cut in between them, "but Rick is right. The man is a liability. He needs to be under surveillance at least."

The new leader of the community nodded, "Okay. I'll think about it."

"All right," Rick then conceded, "Let's move out."

* * *

_Ugh, I just can't seem to be able to get to the Kingdom, my plans-never go according to the plan, heh. That being said, I've been struggling with some points with the plot in the last days, so if any of you would be interested to be a sort of beta for me for a little brainstorming, I'd very appreciate it. If you're interested, please PM me._

_I also hope everyone is safe and secure from Corona virus. I'm watching what happens to the world with almost a panic attack, writing a story about a virus of such a kind. It's almost ironic._

_Like always, please don't hesitate to tell me what you think. I would like to hear its. The readership dropped as I expected when I chose to change the direction of the story with Rick and Amanda, but almost everyone stopped reviewing too now, and it's started stressing me out. Sounds kinda lame, I know, but well...everyone needs a kind of appreciation, I guess. :)_


	12. Chapter 12

XII.

Horses, Rick couldn't remember the last time he saw horses. Their hoofs made deep clinks on the road as the riders approached toward them as they stood in the middle of the desolated, barren area that seemed to be a parking lot in the old days.

Rick looked at the riders again. They were geared with black matte body armor at chest and joints, holding reins in a loose but showing off way as they trotted toward them from around a wide three stories old red brick building to their left side. Old fashioned indeed.

Amanda made a face as they got closer, smell of the sweaty animals possibly making her sicker, but stayed silence even though her face got paler. The urge of getting her closer to his side was strong, but Rick stood still at his feet—staring at the newcomers in an open way as they did the same.

The good old staring contest, something he just had gotten so well. There were two of them, one brunette, the other black-haired, both having same stony expressions, and battle hardened looks, and seeing their face made Rick feel much better. Fighters. The men were fighters. Hilltop had farmers, but the Kingdom had seasoned fighters. It also explained a bit clearer Sanctuary's forced respect for the community, they probably wanted to play safe. Though, if things were with them like this, if they had managed to find a common ground between themselves, it was going to be harder to convince them for fighting back.

The brunette man, still ahorse, turned his attention to Jesus, "Rovia—" Rick understood it was Jesus's real surname, "Who are these— his eyes skipped at them for a second, "—foreigners?"

"This's Rick Grimes," Jesus introduced him, and pointed his head at the rest of them, "And some of his people. They're from a—similar mind-like community," he remarked.

"How similar?"

"They defend the living, fight with dead, and protect their realm."

"Hmm…" the man said back.

"They seek us audience with the King," Jesus continued.

The man gave them a long look, wandering his eyes on each of them, then pulling the reins, he turned the head of his horse aside, "Follow us. Do not stray off the path."

Green—it was the first thing Rick had noticed walking in the compound. Everything was so green. The complex was surrounded by those old fashioned red brick buildings—like Jesus had said, an old school complex. The yard was spacious, and green, full with wooden gazebos. Everywhere they had greens, even in the middle of the yard inside of big truck tires, wooden crates, and green beds. He could see the stables at the other side of the town—and a barn, too, with a poultry—he shot a look at Amanda, catching her face get even more distorted with smells, but there was the same awe in her eyes, too, as she watched her around.

A squadron of guards with the same gears as their watchers were in the morning jogging, and Rick knew they also had a sort of Militia, capable watchers and fighters. Kingdom—Kingdom looked like everything Rick wanted to build for his family—a place where they could be truly safe and live together.

But appearances could also be deceptive, as they were neither safe nor could live together. Not all of them.

"How this started—?" Amanda asked then, her eyes carefully studying the parts of the body armors, black matte, standard issue, but not commercial, "Another military safe post?"

Jesus shrugged, "I don't know exactly. A part of strayed soldiers from their division must've started the community, but it was before the King's reign started—" the former recruiter explained, his eyes wandering around as well, "They made the best of it, like we did."

"And let me guess—" Amanda said back, tossing a glance at him, "The military—they just left, right? One day they went and never came back."

Jesus shrugged again, and Rick shared another glance with her, recalling Deanne's words too; _They brought us here then left. They never came back._

With the all communities that had found out that had managed building a semi civilization of sorts it was always the same. Military had started it, then had left. Rick didn't know what it meant, but he knew it meant something, and he also knew Amanda was getting more curious and curious of that fact.

Getting off their horses, the guards passed the reins to the stable boys that had rushed at their side and walked towards them. "We will make known His Majesty—" the black-haired guard said, looking at Jesus, and the other man turned to Rick, "You must leave off your weapons before you go before the King."

"Richard—" Jesus tried to come in, but Rick stopped him, putting a hand off at the man's arm.

"It's okay." His eyes turned to the guard, "We come in peace."

And they had, they had come for peace. "Hmm—" the man only answered in return, though, and left for the building at the opposite side of them.

He came back five minutes later, "His Majesty will receive you," he announced and turned back and stalked back in the same building he had come out.

Amanda heaved out a sigh next to him, shaking her head, "This's fucking ridiculous."

Rick gave her a look in warning, "Just play along. We need these people."

"Yeah…" she grunted out.

Jesus turned to them, too, then, looking all of his group, "Um…try not to look too surprised," he said, "It—it rattles him."

This time, Amada snorted, looking around, "Well, looks like to me the Kings is rather fond of it."

Jesus turned aside to give her a look over his shoulder as he started walking to the building, "Not the King."

Rick's eyes found hers and they exchanged a look before they shrugged and followed the other man.

# # #

_Try not to look too surprised… _passed in her mind as Amanda stared at the stage, and she understood better what the former recruiter of Hilltop had meant.

Bloody fucking goddamn ridiculous!

There was a tiger at the stage, a live-size _tiger_, silently prowling around the wooden long chair that looked like a stupid throne as an Afro-American man with dreadlocks lounged over it in a pose of sheer ridiculousness, one leg over the chair's armrest as one hand held a…scepter over his knee, his other hand holding a chain that was linked around the tiger's neck, clinks of the metal chain ringing in the hall with each step the tiger took as they stood at the entrance, speechless, so stupefied for the words.

It was so…stupid, and it just smelled so awful she almost hurled up standing on her feet.

Alexandria was bad, Hilltop with its livestock and barn was worse, but this—the Kingdom—with its stable, barn and tiger was the worst of worst. She had no idea how feline predator like a tiger might smell like before, but _what_ she was smelling was just awful, so awful for the words.

She was really fucking hating it!

She was in the same room with the fucking biggest cat in the whole world—one of the most dangerous animals of the world and she was pregnant with twins! The chain link looked like sturdy enough but who would know?

"There's a tiger," she hissed at the former recruiter, "There's a fucking tiger over there, and you didn't think to tell us about it before!"

The man gave her an apologetic look, "Didn't want to ruin the surprise," he mumbled.

In her mind, Amanda passed how it would've made a grand entrance if she'd attacked the man, but Rick held her arm as if he had realized what she was thinking. She gave the former recruiter a seething glower, she _really_ wanted to make a scene.

Though she lost her chance. The next second the big man in a burgundy long robe who stood behind a few feet away from the throne with another long staff in his left hand hit it twice at the ground, making a sturdy noise that echoed in the rather silent room, and announced like a damn herald:

"All hail the King Ezekiel the First—" his baritone voice boomed in the air, "Tiger of the East, Falcon of the West," the man continued, "Defender of the Living, Bane of the Dead, Protector of the Weak, and the Shield of the Realm."

Amanda was still staring—just like the rest of them.

"JESUS!" then the King shouted with a thick, baritone voice too, raising his free hand in the air— "Well met again, our old truest friend—" and greeted his truest friend as they all tossed a look at the former recruiter, "It brings joy to our heart seeing you under a new sun, old friend—" the King continued, his eyes skipping at them this time, "and you have brought companions with yourself."

Jesus bowed his head respectfully, "Aye, Your Majesty, I have indeed—" Twisting aside, the man waved at Rick, "Allow me make acquaintances to you this fine, honorable man, Your Grace—" Jesus pointed at Rick, "Rick Grimes—of—" and paused for a second couldn't find a proper name as he didn't know where they—hailed from.

Amanda wondered what Rick would say. Telling them about Alexandria would be a great scoop as there were still big ads at the roads, Alexandria declaring itself a sustainable community for all in the new world… Until now Amanda hadn't realized how ironic it was all.

Rick took a step out, and said, "Of King County, Georgia."

Amanda snickered inside. Ever the cautious one.

The King gave Rick a look, "You have strayed off far away from home, Rick Grimes of King Country."

Rick gave the man a little shoulder shrug, angling it downward, "It's a small world."

The King's face grew a bit more serious, "Why do you seek us, Rick Grimes of King Country."

Rick stared at the man, "Because we do have a common enemy," he answered simply, "and I believe we can help each other."

"A common enemy—" the King asked back, sharing a glance with Jesus, "Our only enemy is the dead."

Amanda stepped out beside Rick, "Not that one, sorry," she said, "We're—"

The King cut her off, "And who is this fair lady speaking?"

She rolled her eyes, "Well, that's a first. Never been called a lady before—" she mumbled with a scoff and regretted it as soon as she did as smells assaulted her again—her stomaching heaving. She grimaced, trying to settle down her upset stomach, "I'm Amanda—" she paused for a second, almost added Grimes too like she always did, but then something stopped her, and she stayed in silence.

She was Amanda Grimes but calling herself like that as she stood there in front of all these new people suddenly felt—she didn't know, like…like she'd be only a part of Rick—his wife—and she had no idea why suddenly it bothered her, because she loved being his wife. She was fucking loving being Amanda Grimes. It was the best thing had ever happened to her, for the first time in her life she was content with herself, happy being who she was—so why the hell she had felt like this…?

Rick was giving her a look, too, his eyes narrowing a bit, his eyebrows clenching in question, and he must have sensed it, he always did, always sensed her...shit. Pretending she hadn't noticed his look, she cleared her throat, and pushed the thoughts away from her mind. They were here for a mission. She was going to deal with it later. "We need to talk about Negan," she announced, dropping the bomb, "We know your deal with Saviors."

And she watched all the flamboyant merriment over the man's face wipe off, "We do not mention that in open—" The King snapped, and turned to Jesus, "We took an oath together. We brought you in our confidence. We called you our truest friend." His eyes were accusing now as much as his words, his voice rising, "Why have you broken faith with us, Paul of the Hilltop?"

"I have not—" Jesus said back.

"You had spoken unto them about our deal with the Saviors—" the King shot back, "which must stay hidden for the good of the Realm."

Rick shook his head, walking further toward the stage. The big cat turned around stiffly and roared at Rick. The sudden movement turned her stomach even worse. She put a hand over her stomach and walked to Rick's side. "Which cannot—" she said then, trying to get her voice…archaic, "You must _needs_ listen to us, Your Majesty!"

"Gregory is gone," Rick told the man then, stepping further ahead, his eyebrows clenched, "Negan got him killed when they deemed the tribute is too light, and rest Hilltop in ruins!" His eyes fixed at the man, his tone bore a warning, a bitter foreshadowing, "If we don't stop Negan, you're next in the line."

The King shook his head, "We do have a deal, and we are honoring it."

"_But how long?"_ Rick snapped, his voice getting even more agitated, and Amanda noticed—heating, he was getting get fed up with this…play, too, "How long can you keep honoring it or how long would they let you do it until one day they come and take everything?"

"And the day is approaching," Amanda supplied in with her best haunting tone, her voice full of speculation. They must know it. They did seem to have a deal with them, a better than Hilltop, but how long—how fucking long…? Time was running out.

"We have a plan," Rick stated then, trying to cool himself down, but the man, posed a King, stood up in the same grandeur he had been talking and sitting—and being damn stupid cut him off.

"Let our new guests refresh themselves with the hospitality of the Realm," he ordered his men and turned to Jesus and Rick again, "We will sit and talk at the feast come night."

"We don't have that much time!" Rick shouted after the man, but the King had already started walking toward the exit back there, leaving the stage.

# # #

"We're not going to stay here for the night—" Rick grunted out once they were alone at outside. Staying overnight… Nah. Guests should know when it was time to take their leaves, and he wasn't going to let his son, his wife, and his unborn children spend a night here with strangers.

"You talk to him," he told to Jesus, turning toward the recruiter, "We need to finish this. Not there, too." He paused, "It's not good for Amanda. She was about to throw up back there."

Amanda snorted, "It smells awful," she muttered, and nodded, "Yeah, tell him we demand an audience in his chambers, if it please His Grace." She shook her head, "I can't believe you've talked us into this madness—" And shot the other man a killer look, "I can't believe you didn't tell us about the tiger, either!" she fumed in, "How they found it anyway!"

"It _don't_ matter," Rick bit off before Jesus could answer her—

Her lips pulled into a scowl, her eyes growing heated as she glowered at him, "Why the hell are you snapping at me?"

"I don't know!" He didn't know…he was just getting stretched out again… He—he needed to do something. He needed to end this, instead he was playing in a…medieval fair. He shook his head, "I'm sorry," he muttered out.

She huffed deeply, shaking her head, "I'm fucking hating this…" she said back.

Rick gave her a look again. She'd introduced herself as Amanda, Rick had noticed. Only Amanda. She'd easily introduced herself as Amanda Grimes before many times, but back there she'd told the King she was just Amanda.

And Rick hadn't liked it. Not a bit. He wasn't sure why—he just didn't. She was Amanda Grimes, his ring was still on her finger, and it would never leave off her finger, and someone asked her who she was, she was supposed to tell them who she was—Amanda Grimes, his wife. _She_ was not just Amanda, she was his wife.

Dr. Carson took a step forth, "I—I'm gonna make my rounds—" he said, "I'll find you later."

Beth stepped forward too, "I'm coming with him, too—" and looked at Amanda, "You comin'?"

Amanda shook her head, "No—I'm fine."

The others went around, too, exploring the community, the King had given them permission, but Rick hated staying doing nothing, _waiting_. They shouldn't wait. They _couldn't_ wait. There was no time. They had to fight. Time was of essence. They needed to finish this. Now. He turned to Jesus again, and questioned, "Is there anyone we should talk to convince Ezekiel?"

No. He wasn't going to wait here until the night, doing nothing. He had a fight to win.

Jesus bowed his head in consideration, "Richard hates Negan, hates their deal," the former recruiter commented then, holding his chin, "If we can convince him, he would talk to the King in our behalf."

Rick nodded and they found the guard in front of one of the buildings, standing still and stony watching two teenage boys training, "Richard—" Jesus walked to him, "Can we talk—"

The man stared ahead, his eyes trained at his people, "You can talk."

"In private—I mean."

The guard twisted his neck aside and gave them a look for a full minute, his eyes heavy specifically on him. Then he gave a little nod, "Come—" and motioned inside the building.

The room the man walked them into looked like a classroom once, now there was a big round table in the middle—maps and countless papers scattered around, and there were parts of body suits too at the ground, even a few batons, and a radio at the room.

Rick understood, it was their headquarters. The Guard crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Rick again. Rick held his stare. "You said you had a plan. What's it?" the man inquired simply, without pretense, and Rick was glad.

"Where's the outpost they stationed for you?"

"Four miles at the south—why?" the man asked back, narrowing his eyes.

"We divide in three teams," Rick then started telling the plan. It had to work. It wasn't well thought or carefully analyzed, but it was what they got. It must work… "One at Hilltop's outpost, the other at yours. Our main force waits at the border of Sanctuary."

"Hmm—" the man questioned, "For what?"

"We lead sudden attacks at the outposts, at the same time at night," Rick answered plainly, "When Sanctuary understands they're under attack by a coalition between the two colonies, they would want to crash you down. They dispatch reinforcements, then we attack Sanctuary, too."

"How?" the man demanded, "Sanctuary is well-protected, well-guarded. There's a reason why the King chose to give them the tribute."

Rick nodded. "I know. But we're capable too. My people got guns, not enough, but we got them. Combined with yours, we can do it. We also have a rocket launcher, two rounds, and got a truck, too—" Rick explained, "We fire the rockets, hit at their gates with the truck then lead walkers into their grounds." He paused, "That would even out the odds then we deal with rest."

Amanda stepped beside him, too, "Negan's power has probably never tested truly before," she told the man, "No one has challenged him before," she continued, and who would know better than her to test anyone, seeing the rifts inside the communities, even creating them when she had to, "But when he starts losing, his people might...encourage him to be reasonable to find a common ground with us. We also have reasons to believe that he's got some riotous subordinates."

The man gave them a look, "Can you do this?" he asked, his eyes searching, "For real?"

Amanda eased off a shrug, "We could try _or_—" she drawled out, a dry mocking edge cutting into her tone, "we just sit down on our asses, pretend nothing's happening, and give them everything they ask and let them kill us whenever they like—"

"Until they finally come to finish us for good," Rick completed her words. "And they will. If we don't fight back, one day they will come to kill all of us. That's not an if, it's a when," and repeated the same thing to the man.

With a grunt, the guard nodded in agreement. "I know. It's inevitable. As long as they take from us, they get stronger as we grow weaker and weaker." He paused, looking at them in seriousness again, "Sometimes I thought it… fighting back too—but always forsook it at the end."

"Why?" Rick asked.

"Because I never believed we would win."

The man left the rest of the words unsaid, but Rick still understood. Until now.

Until they all got together, because even though all the world was changing, one thing still remained the same; together they stood, divided they fell.

# # #

An hour or so later, the King accepted them again—this time in his parlor. It was another classroom turned to a living space, a sort of study and meeting place and Rick was glad because Amanda looked relieved as the tiger was back at his cage at the other side of the town and _the_ _King_ looked like he had talked to his personal guard.

"How will you lead walkers into Sanctuary?" the man questioned, eyeing them carefully.

"Walkers herd up and follow a pattern. Right now as we speak a team of my people get them together," he explained the plan further. Maggie, Rosita, and Tara had stayed behind together with Heath and Scott to find a group of walkers to get them herd up. Daryl had suggested to break in Sanctuary, using the same truck Wolves had dispatched unto them, and Rick had come up with the walkers part. They didn't get the numbers, so they would use walkers for their legwork.

It was possibly the maddest plan he'd ever thought of before, but they could do it. They had to do it. They had to finish it. Surprise attacks couldn't be a surprise if they were dragged out. Every hour they spent now was more of a security risk as they grew more in the numbers, their weak points growing, and if he could, Rick would've launched the attack right now, but they still needed time to get prepared. A day more. Just a day more. No more.

"We do it tomorrow after midnight," so Rick told them, "We can't wait anymore. We'll herd them up and then lead them to Sanctuary. We managed it before."

Ezekiel weighted him up and down, "Rick Grimes of King County," then the man exclaimed out, "I have not still decided if you're a madman that will bring us to our end or a gift that sent by God to save us all."

Rick shook his head, his eyes skipping at Amanda where she stood with Carl, "I'm just a man trying to protect his family."

He was always that, nothing more nothing less.

With the corner of his eyes, he caught Amanda smiling a small smile, her hand going at her stomach, her face loosening her indifferent mask for a second as they dealt with the King and his guards, and for a split of a second she looked again like the woman staring at her—her light green eyes darkened to a shade of emerald with love, lust, and desire as he trapped her under him as she gave herself to him with her everything—his wife.

Amanda Grimes.

# # #

_I'm just a man trying to protect his family,_ Rick said, and it felt like something in her put on fire again, and she was burning—burning with love—her core throbbing, twisting, wanting him…and he was with her—he always with her—inside her—his babies… Her hand on instinct went to her stomach and she touched at herself…

Goodness, each time she thought she couldn't possibly fall for him more than she had already fallen, he did something else to make her love him a bit more.

She caught him at the back of the motor home alone before they got on the RV to turn back to Hilltop and pushed him back at the vehicle and kissed him even before he could open his mouth, kissed him long and hard. "What was that for?" he asked her with a little laugh when she stopped her assault and pulled back off him.

She snorted, "You _know_ why—" She fixed at him a mocked annoyed look, and shook her head with a little smile, "Sometimes I think you're doing it on purpose—just to get me jump on you."

He snorted back at her, and his hand touched at her cheek, "You've accused me of doing worse things, Mrs. Grimes."

She bowed her head, feeling a bit shame for the teasing words, because she had—she had questioned him, his love so many times, but he leaned forward and kissed her again back, then nipped slightly at the corner of her mouth, "And it's Amanda Grimes—" he suddenly rasped out at her, "the next time someone asks you who you are, you tell them you're Amanda Grimes."

Her eyes snapped back at him—and he was staring at her intently—through her, drilling inside her—through her every cell—his clear blue eyes once again were an electric blue, heavy with unspoken words, and staring at him back in silence, Amanda only nodded back.

# # #

The next night, after the midnight, Rick kissed her deeply at the Barrington House steps before they all left for their assignments. "Be safe—" she whispered at him softly, rising her hand to stroke his bearded cheek with her fingertips, "and come back to me."

In answer, Rick leaned on in her and kissed her again.

# # #

An hour later, Rick sat at the pick-up at the borders of Sanctuary, watching with his binoculars its living dead perimeters chained at the fences in silence, then he lowered it and brought up his radio.

His eyes skipped at the cars next to his vehicle, the joint force of Alexandria, Hilltop, and the Kingdom troops, a force of fifty-five men and women, probably less than even half of Sanctuary's numbers, but they got intel, they got the surprise effect, and Sanctuary didn't. "All teams, report—" he ordered finally, pressing at the side of his radio.

"Bravo's a go—" Daryl called in first, the second after his own team, Alpha.

"Charlie's go—" Abraham supplied the next at the Hilltop's outpost, where he was with Jesus.

"Delta's good to go—" Richard, the guardsmen, said for the last at the other outpost.

Rick clicked at the push button at the side radio. "I know we don't know each other yet—not well enough, but we need to know this so there would be no misunderstandings. We're into this together. We do this together. For our homes. For our friends. For our loved one. For our families. To make them wake up to a better world this dawn." He released the push button, an image of them—Amanda and him sitting at the table with the kids, eating and laughing appeared at his eyes, the first time Amanda had tried to get them eat those acorn and beets cookies that Carol had invented, assuring Rick and Carl they _were_ indeed good hopping Judith in her lap—kissing their baby's soft hair with a glower as Rick and Carl were sniffing at the cookies… and the way she had given herself to him last night, once again completely—with her everything—his wife—his babies inside her, slowly growing—the way he'd caressed her slowly bulging stomach and kissed—

_Rick…_

Her soft voice echoed in the silence of the car, pulling him out of his sudden reverie before he gave his go to Charlie and Delta teams to start the attack at the outposts, and his eyes narrowed as she called at him again over the static… "Rick…" the radio cracked with a single utterance of his name.

Something cold—a cold shiver ran over his spine, "Rick—" she called out from the radio again, "Rick?" and her sobs followed…

Rick pressed the push button agitated, a sudden fright taking him… "Amanda! Amanda!"

"I'm sorry—" she sobbed out, "I'm so sorry, baby…"

"Amanda!" Rick shouted again, bringing the radio closer to his lips, "Amanda, what's happening?"

"Rick Grimes—" then he heard a voice calling at him again, a man's voice, "We met at least."

"Who is talking?"

"I'm Negan—" and the voice answered, "I heard you've been looking for me."

His hand started trembling as he stared ahead—still trying to understand what was happening, because it couldn't be happening—Amanda—his wife—his beautiful wife, his beautiful, pregnant with twins wife couldn't be together with that sadistic maniac…yet from the other side a snickering laughter came out, sounding pleased, almost like having fun, "Yeah, Rick, shit's about to get a hit."

* * *

_Oh god, finally we have Negan. That's really a big cornerstone, and finally arrived. You must be aware that I'm kinda ripping off Season 7 and Season 8 all together at once, because I think Negan's subplot was dragged too much in the show, and it kinda ruined the essence of the Walking Dead, so I'm not going to dwell on him that much, but of course shit's gonna hit the fan first. He he. That being said, I still haven't watched all episodes of Season 7 and 8, just skipped over them and read them online...and not gonna do it in the near future too, so if there's something awfully wrong with canon, let's just skip it, too. For one thing, I'm not even sure if Kingdom and Sanctuary know where Sanctuary is before Daryl escaped at the show-but Rick knows it in the story as we learned it from Dwight._

_And Rick and Amanda's relationship is heating up... Not only because of Negan, too._


	13. Chapter 13

_Well, hello again, I'm sitting at home this weekend because of Corona virus, and finished another chapter too!_

_And I'm *almost* embarrassed to post this one, heh. But it was about the time._

XIII.

During all the way back to home, Rick's words turned in her mind as she sat quietly beside him at two rows seat at the motor home, gazing at outside through window. _The next time someone asks you who you are, you tell them you're Amanda Grimes._

So, he had really noticed her…hesitation, the way she left it open, and he hadn't enjoyed it, just like she'd presumed. The electrical blue of his eyes was settled down a bit, but his posture had still had that tension when his gaze was drilling into her, but perhaps she was just reading too much into it. They were about to take their biggest—the most serious risks of all, they had no chance. No chance, no choice, either. They couldn't let that wannabe Genghis Khan come and take their home, hurt their people. They couldn't. And Rick was of course tensed, strained—worried and she should help him, right? Not make things harder for him… _She_ was his wife. Wives were supposed to protect their husband's backs, help them—be there for them… and she always wanted to do it, too…dammit, she always wanted to protect his ass—always wanted to be a part of the solution, not the problem…

Yet again—here she was—managing him to get worked up again even in this.

She just didn't know… one of part of her wanted it—so wanted him like that—still—her core was still throbbing with need—wanting him—needing to feel him inside her—it was always there from the start but the other part—well, the part had started getting worried.

_If you play with fire, you get burned…_ the words appeared in her mind too, and Rick's possessive words at the motor home's back… fuck it! She'd already seen this story once! She'd seen it with Gorman and Joan… Rick wasn't like Gorman, neither she was like Joan…but still…

She let out a sigh, and Rick shot at her a glance in silence. She wondered if everyone else's relationships were this—rocky, or it was just theirs. Glenn and Maggie seemed like happy—without any problems, they always seemed like so…happy. Daryl and Beth had managed to find their balance, even Abraham and Sasha seemed like okay despite the love triangle they'd had going on… Everyone except them seemed like having happy, fucking healthy relationships…

She wondered it was her—she put him from one rollercoaster through another—perhaps she'd been right. She just couldn't do it, couldn't do relationships—She shook her mentally and pushed the thought away. She wasn't going to fucking think like this. Like there was something wrong with her deep down. There was nothing wrong with _her_! Nothing!

No one was perfect, like Beth had said, and she had to stop this, like Rick had said.

She let out another sigh and took Rick's hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

As soon as she did it—something in him loosened, she even felt it under her skin—the strain across his shoulder—and his other found hers too and took it between his. She faintly smiled, feeling a bit content, at least they could still talk to each other. They weren't good with words, but they were good with these—with these little gestures…the way his fingertips caressed lightly over skin… she recalled how he used to brush his fingers over hers when they were on the road whenever he sensed she was stressed out—especially with Whitney—trying to relax her, and that was the man she loved the most—the man she wanted to give herself to with her everything—be lost in him—a good, honest man who could do anything to protect his family…

His other went around and found her stomach, and he gently started playing with her belly—she could feel bulging a little—his babies inside her growing…her breath hitched as she trembled, and bit her inner cheek to keep the sudden sobs inside her_… Kittens tangle your yarn, men tangle your wits,_ she'd heard the old lady once murmured…no idiom would've been truer to her.

He dipped his chin to look at her and she forced out a mumble out of her, "It's hormones—" she said lamely, "Doubled up."

"Hmm mm—" he only whispered back at her but didn't say anything else, and she was glad.

Back at the home, they went to the house and called it a night. She was so tired now she barely managed to take a shower, put on her satin pajamas and started combing her hair after she'd blow dried it. He came out of the bathroom a towel wrapped around his waist low, his hair still dripping wet and walked to her. Her eyes caught his figure walking to her at the mirror in front of her and she let out a sigh as he caught hers… stopping behind her back, he took the comb from her and started brushing her hair.

"Do you want to talk about it—?" he asked then, his hand with the comb slowly going through her loose locks.

She stayed in silence for a moment then gave out a little shrug, "I don't know…" she said truthfully, "I'm—tired."

He gave her a look, "Will you come tomorrow to Hilltop?"

Quickly she gave him a nod. "Yes. It's not about that."

"Then what's it about—?" he asked, and paused, his eyes capturing her again as she bowed her head, "Amanda, why did you just say your name—?"

She looked at him back at the mirror, lifting her head up, "Why did it bother you this much?" she asked back.

He paused again, his hand hovering over her hair motionless, "I don't know. I just didn't like it—" Another pause, "You're my wife."

"I'm other things too—" she mumbled out, running her eyes away. She was… She was the co-leader of this community, an ex-cop and a mother… Amanda Grimes was—should be all of these people, not just his wife.

"Yes, and you're also my wife—" he said in return, and asked back, too, "Does it bother you people know that you're my wife?"

She turned around and faced with him. Rick dropped his hand too then and his head bowed to look at her. "_No_, of course not," she answered, shaking her head, and tried to find a way to explain him what she felt—and it wasn't an easy job as she didn't even know truly herself what she had felt— "but you've got a very—extensive personality, Rick," she said at last.

"And?"

She stood up, "And well—I don't know." She let out a sigh, "I guess I just didn't want them to see me as…an extension of you," she finally let it out.

It was even hard to confess to herself—as she looked at it, trying to understand, she could only see that was what was happening. She was getting too much…tangled with him.

But there was hurt in Rick's eyes now as he looked at her, and it hurt her, too, making her short of breath because she didn't want to do this—not anymore. She didn't want to accuse him of things—like she used to do. It hurt him…he'd even told her so. She didn't want to hurt him. She loved him! She loved him with her everything. It was just she couldn't help but feel it…Sometimes… She shook her head, "Rick, does it not feel to you too—sometimes—we're like playing with fire?"

His eyes narrowed into a slit, getting electrical again, "What do you mean?"

Letting out a snicker laugh, she shook her head again, "Don't pretend clueless, Rick, it doesn't really suit you."

His eyes grew more heated and she waved her hand at the bed agitated, "Do you really expect me to believe that you're not aware what's happening there, Rick?" she asked in disbelief, "For god's sake, you just gave me an ultimatum because I called myself with my name a few hours ago. You took my wrists, trapped me under you and fucked me senseless at an examination chair just yesterday. You made me call myself…_yours_… Now, seriously, doesn't ring any bells?"

His face closed off, his eyes turned to a stone, a blue, glinting gemstone, "I thought you were enjoying yourself—" he rasped out.

"And I WAS!" she bellowed out, tossing her head backward, rising her hands up in the air, "God help me, I _was_!" she breathed out, lifting her head again, "Possibly more than I should have..."

He took a step closer to her, "Amanda—"

She shook her head, and twisted aside in an elusive move to run away from him and started pacing in the room, words suddenly breaking out of her—another flood coming at her—

"I was enjoying myself quite a _lot, _you see…?" she asked again, and went on before he could speak again, "Even now when one of part of me wonders if we're playing with fire—and yes, honey, it feels like we are—another part of me just wants you to take me to the bed and fuck me senseless." Turning to him, she looked at him directly in the eyes, "I want to lose myself in you, Rick. I want to feel your weight on me—want you to trap me down under you, want you to—tie my fucking hands—" She let out a deep breath and confessed it, she couldn't help herself anymore, she _wanted_ it… god help her, she wanted it… it was there, inside her, throbbing, scratching, clawing at her with need… "I want you to blindfold me, strangle me…fuck me senseless until I pass out!" She gave out a hysterical laugh, walking back to him as he stood at the vanity table, "And it scares the shit out of me because when you fuck me like that I feel completed—like—like I'm finally whole…safe…and it's dangerous!" She dropped herself on the stool and putting her elbows on her knees covered her face with her hands.

"It's hormones—" she mumbled behind her hands, shaking her hands, "must be bloody hormones…I'm losing my damn mind."

Rick knelt down in front of her feet, she could see through her fingers then reached out and took her hands away from her face, and made her look at him, "Amanda, look at me—" he told her, pulling his hands away, too, and rested them on her knees. Obeying his command, she lifted her head up. "Why do you think it's dangerous?" he asked, "You say you feel safe."

It took a few seconds the words registered in her, that wasn't what she'd expected. She didn't know what exactly she'd been expecting, maybe calling out as a fruitcake or something but it wasn't this… "I—Joan—" she tried to explain, but he cut her off.

"I'm _not_ Gorman—" he told her sternly, "You know I'm not—" He paused, looking at her, his eyes searching through hers, "So you feel yourself being comprised?" he pressed down further.

She tried to give a shrug, "I could hardly make a nice house pet, Rick, you must've already realized it by now."

He shook his head. "I don't want a nice house pet, I want _you_." He gave her another look, "And I'm shocked that someone as smart as you are still haven't realized it by now."

His words had a jab in it, and she of course had noticed it—She shook her head, letting out a sigh, "I know. I'm sorry—" she muttered out, even though she wasn't exactly for sure for what she was exactly apologizing for.

"Amanda, listen to me—" Rick started then, his voice getting that tone again, the tone that made her listen to him every single time… "I'm not going to lie to you as it'd be pointless because you'd catch it. I—I like you like _that_. We both know it. I guess I even need to feel it—know that you're safe. And you feel safe. You said it yourself. I feel I'm keeping you safe, too, when I get you like that. My nightmares…you were right. They were about you. I dream you. You're screaming for my name as I run in the corridors of the prison looking for you." He paused for a second, his eyes on hers, and it hurt her hearing it—she knew his nightmares were about her, and there was a twitch in her as she realized she was being put in his ex-wife's place again…but it didn't hurt her this time, not much—it only hurt her because Rick felt like this—fearing of losing _her_… not being able to keep her safe. She'd been suspecting it, of course she had been, but hearing it…hearing it was hard. "Amanda, I think we both need it," he then remarked through her musings.

She stared at him back… "You're not serious…"

"I _am_," Rick insisted, bobbing his head at her, "I don't joke with something like that. It comes to me good. You always want me to keep my head cool, right? I—think—it's working. It calms me down."

"No…" She shook her head, "It's playing with fire… If you play with fire, you get burned."

"Then let's make a deal—" he told her then, "You take charge in public, and I take charge in private."

"What?"

"You—you lead in public—" he repeated, "Deanne wanted you to lead, only wanted me to protect you, all of you, Alexandria. And I can do that, keep you safe and protected as long as you give me full authority on the matters of the security. For the rest, we'll follow your lead. You're much better at politics than me. You're much better with the council, and let's face it, everyone will feel much better if you take the reins from me. Besides, we can do much of anything without the consent of the council." He paused, his eyes finding hers again, "In return," he continued, "when we're alone, when we're at _home_, you'll give me back the reins."

"I—I'm not sure if it'd work, Rick…" she muttered, but he was already leaning on in her, opening the buttons of her top.

"It _will_—" he told her back, pulling her down on the ground from the stool, "We'll make it work. Besides, if you give me a hard time in public, I can always make you reconsider it in private later, don't worry…"

She opened her mouth, but he silenced her, putting his finger on it lightly. "No. Tell me which one of them you want to be tied tonight. Your eyes or your hands?" he asked as if it was the most common question in the world as she stared at him, "Choose."

Her head spinning, she swallowed. It was—she couldn't say yes to this—but he was staring at her so intently again and suddenly it was so hard to even breath properly—her mouth dry—and images were turning in her mind—herself in his arms like that—her insides twisting—clawing, coiling with need…god, she wanted it—she was so fucking wanting it… she'd already confessed it… "Hands—" she breathed out finally, forcing it out of herself, and her eyes dropping at his lap, she mumbled out, "and your belt…I want your belt again."

His hands grabbed her collar and pulled her at his chest, "You'll be death of me…" he murmured before his lips found hers.

# # #

It—it was better than his memories.

He straightened on his knees at the bed after the last twist around her wrists and pulling the length of the leather, he tightened his knot. This was going to leave a mark on her wrists tomorrow, he knew, and he wanted it, too, a slight mark on her, under her sleeves, something only he knew. Just like her corner of the lips, her wrist was going to have his mark too—and her neck—he wanted it… He needed it.

He wanted her like this.

His eyes lowered, he found her again as she lay down on the bed naked, her hands tied with his belt just like the first time, staring at him. "The babies—" she breathed out a second later, rising herself a bit off, "They—"

He leaned toward her, pushing her down again, "I'm not gonna torture you, Amanda," he told her almost with a smile, "Our babies will be fine. Trust me." His eyes found hers, his lips losing the faint smile, "Do you? Do you trust me?"

Her eyes still had a shade of worry, but she quickly nodded. "No. Say it," her ordered. She still didn't look like she was getting what was happening here, "I want to hear your voice."

Her eyes on his, this time she followed him, "I trust you, Rick."

He nodded, satisfied. He leaned further on her, "I'm gonna fuck you senseless now, baby, just in the way you want it, and you will tell me how you feel. How it makes you feel—me having you like this. I want to hear it."

Looking at him back, swallowing she nodded again, but he shook his head. "No more nodding," he warned, "You will _talk_ to me."

"Okay."

"Good." He paused, "How do you feel?"

She paused, too, then said, "_Wet_."

He shook his head, laughing, "I really love you, you know right?"

She almost nodded again, but stopped, smiling up at him a bit, "Yes, I know it, Rick."

"Good—" he told her again, and leaned down further, "I'll always keep you safe—always."

"I know—" she said back, "You'd never let anything happen to me…"

"Never—" he nodded, and promised her again before his lips found hers, "Never."

# # #

"How you feel—tell me?" he whispered in her ear, pounding in her…like there was no tomorrow, his hand holding her tied hands tightly above her head…

She was soaring in the sky—letting herself go once more with feelings, to him, always to him, and she knew one word—only one word she was feeling… "Alive…" she whispered back at him, and she was…she was gloriously alive, until her last cell, until her last atom, from head to toe… she was full of life.

Inside her, she felt her babies stir…

# # #

The next night, after the midnight, he kissed her deeply at the Barrington House steps before they all left for their assignments. "Be safe—" she whispered at him softly, rising her hand to stroke his bearded cheek with her fingertips, "and come back to me."

In answer, he leaned on in her and kissed her again.

# # #

The moon was full in the sky. Still at the old mansion's steps Amanda watched the desolated colony, waiting—she should've been inside, waiting in front of the radio, waiting for Rick, but it just made her feel worse, filling her with anxiety. She wished she had someone with her right now, someone she knew, Beth, Carol, Rosita, even Maggie—someone. The only people she knew here at the colony were Jesus and the doctor. Jesus had gone, and the doctor was always busy.

Funny how she really had become hating being alone. Another she had never thought herself becoming one. She shook her head with a sigh snicker, her head lowering, and she pushed her sleeves a bit to look at her scraped wrists.

The red chaffing was circling her wrists, it wasn't furious, it didn't hurt, either, it was just there, a slight graze over skin, a remembrance of the last night, and of the shape of things to come. She trembled recalling it, how alive she had felt—burning with the feelings, gloriously burning, letting herself go completely to him, always to him—and accepting it…accepting she _wanted_ him to have her like this—well, if they were making a mistake, they were making a damn glorious one indeed.

But perhaps she should've been surprised, that thing—this feral intimacy had been always brewing underneath them, surfacing whenever they couldn't keep their guards up and let themselves go. It was always there, always; at the woods, at the barn, after the party, at the church, at the warehouse on the supply run…always with them.

She still didn't know if they could keep this up like Rick had claimed—didn't even know if he would really let her…lead as he'd said, Rick did what he thought was right, and he was always right, wasn't he? So perhaps he was really right, and they could really work this out.

She turned on her heels and decided to go inside. She had to be in front of the radio. This was…for later, for private. She had come to Hilltop so she could have a contact to Rick, _so_ she wouldn't sit in the dark, stressing herself out about the stuff, which she was doing.

She never learned her lessons, never.

Her eyes picked up Ethan in the grounds and followed him. The man had stayed back, and something was making her on pins and needles with him. She had tracked him earlier in the night, making sure he was behaving but he hadn't anything—suspicious.

She didn't know—but she was feeling it—a tingle at the back of her head—waiting something go bad, turn bad—something bad happened, because it always happened, right?

She shook her head again. She shouldn't think like this! She just shouldn't. They got this. At the dawn all of them was going to have a bit better world to live—another psychopathic sonofabitch biting to dust, and her babies—Carl, Judith, they all would live happier, safer…

And Rick and her…they would keep themselves…functioning. They would fuck themselves senseless at night, in the confidentiality of each other…giving each other what they needed, they were a wife and husband, caring for each other, and then they'd be happy—alive and happy…

She steeled her mind on the feeling and almost turned on her heels to walk back inside the Gregory's room and waited but her steps halted when she saw Dr. Carson climbing the staircase toward her.

In his hand, there was a mug, a slight smoke rising up from it. "I found ginger tea for you," the doctor told her, extending her the cup, "Drink."

She took it gladly. It wasn't as bad as in the morning, but her stomach was always upset. "I don't like ginger, but it's good to me, right?" she asked, giving a little smile.

The man looked at her for a split of second, his eyes heavy, then he cracked a smile, "Bitter medicine."

She smiled back further and raised the mug to a salute. Whatever it took for her babies… "Can I ask you something?" the doctor asked, and Amanda nodded.

"It's personal but I wanted to ask—" He paused for a second, "Why did you want a baby when things like this?"

She let out a sigh. If she had a coin for each time someone wondered about that question, she would've been a rich woman by now. She took a sip from the mug before she answered, "We—Rick and I—we lived in wilderness for a long time," she then said, skipping her eyes at the doctor, and took another sip, "We wanted to create something together, wanted to create a—_life_," she then repeated his words.

The man nodded, "You're very brave."

She shrugged, taking another sip, and shook her head, wondering if it was the doctor's nice way to tell her she was mad. Madness and braveness. It'd always had come to her there was so little distinction between them, and she had never thought herself being neither. But she had never thought herself being in love, either. She gave the man another look, her head suddenly spinning again, smiling, "No. I'm just in love."

But the doctor's face had that expression once again, as her head turned, his eyes heavy—an expression of…regret… and she tried to narrow her eyes, but they were getting heavy…heavy like stones… "Doctor?" she whispered out.

And the man shook his head, "I'm so sorry—"

She lowered her eyes down at the mug—then dropped it on the ground. Her hand feverishly went to her hip, but fingers were tingling. She fumbled with them to unclasp her holster—goodness, drawing out her gun shouldn't be this hard… She used to do it in three seconds—she was always fast—yet she felt her fingers like butter.

And the world was a blur over her eyes.

She tried to shake it—but her head was so heavy too—like her eyes…drooping…

God, she had to run!

She was drugged!

Her babies! She tried to look around, terrified—tried to scream—but only thing she could manage to utter out was a whisper, "My babies…"

Hands held her as she started falling—or the steps raised toward her knees, she didn't know… "They're fine—I arranged the dose. Nothing's gonna happen to them. I promise."

She wanted to laugh—she wanted to scream—she wanted to kill him in the most horrible way possible… but all she could do was to make out a whimper before she passed out in his arms.

# # #

"Holy moly shit!" a voice exclaimed out through the cobwebs in her mind, "What the fuck happened here?"

Hands were dragging her—the world was still consisted of a blur—snapshots changing—doors—corridors—steps… Red…

Mansion—they were dragging her up at the mansion.

She made out a whimper, "They had to be taught…." Another male voice answered, curt and clipped and she made out another whimper, trying to break free… "She's coming around…" the voice then said.

"Ah, I was calling her Sleeping Beauty," the first voice chimed in, his voice having a sickening merriment, "What am I gon' call her now?"

A door opened and she was dropped on the ground… "Her name is Amanda—" the third voice supplied, and this time Amanda recognized it. It belonged to the sonofabitch she was going to kill in the most horrible way possible. "And be careful, please, I told you she's pregnant."

Amanda forced her eyes open again and light assaulted as she managed to crack them—and shadows—shadows in figures of men passed over her sight. She tried to turn around and raised herself up—She had to… She had to do something. If it was the day she was finally finished, she should at least meet up with her end at her feet—

Then she shook her head—or tried to… She couldn't die… not yet… Her babies. She couldn't die… _Rick_, she passed in her mind… Where was he? He couldn't let anything happen to them… He—she was safe with him. She was always safe with him.

_I'll always keep you safe—always,_ his voice stirred through the cobwebs, and she whimpered again… "Rick_…_"

"Ah—you see her—wow, this's shit sad, people—" the first voice, the one with the sickening merriment said, "I'm practically moved to tears."

Hands grabbed her, and turned her back—she barely registered, and other hands caught hers—and started pulling off up her sleeves— "Look at that—" the voice boomed again, and other hands yanked off her collar down too, exposing her neck… "Well, well, well, look at _that_…" A snicker followed—from two of them—and even through her drugged mushed brain she knew what they were laughing at… "Someone was being a naughty, very naughty…"

She tried to fight off the hands, but they started—wrapping something around her hands—something sticky, rubber…duct tapes. She pulled them away again, but the curt, clipped voice snapped at her, "Hold still—"

She slowly forced her eyes open and focused on the man. He was a tall man, bending toward her at the ground, tying her hands with the duct tape, above his lips he had the most ridiculous mustache she'd ever seen. She seethed out between her teeth, and he gave her a look, his hands tightening further.

"Please—" the doctor said from somewhere behind her, "Please—she's pregnant with twins."

"Easy, doc—" the sick merry voice said, "She's a tough girl…_look_ _at her!_" She slowly turned her head, and saw the two others, one was clad with a black leather jacket, a red scarf around his neck, and his hands holding a baseball bat—

And as soon as she saw the barbed head, she understood it. She made out a screeching cry—or tried to, and lifted her head up—finding the doctor, and seethed out, hatred coursing through like a wild fire, "I'm going to kill you in the most horrible way possible!" she wailed, "I _will_ come for you!"

Both men laughed, as the doctor shook his head at her, "I'm sorry. I had to do it… My brother…"

"I don't care—" she mumbled out—she wasn't. She was going to kill him, simple as that. In the most horrible way.

Negan came closer to her and knelt in front of her as she lay down on the ground… "Now, this's not cool… _not_ cool, threatening my man like that." He tsked at her, "The doctor served me well today." He let out a huff, then told her with a quirk of lips, "All right, feisty kitten, let's make a deal with you," He put the barbed baseball bat over his knees, "If you be a good girl and play along, I'm gonna keep you safely away from the shit is about to get really _real_ pretty soon around here… You see someone has made me all come down here, and that's not cool, too. I was planning to enjoy a quiet night with my wives." He pushed back at his feet, "So, let's call your hubby and put an end it, 'kay?"

Lowering her head down at the ground, she nodded wordlessly. "Sorry…couldn't catch it—" the man told her back.

She lifted her head up, "I said okay."

"_Good girl,_" he told her back.

The other man with the mustache pulled her up at the floor and gave her the radio. She took it but lay it over her lap, couldn't bring it up to her lips— "Go on now, doll—" Negan urged her.

Tears started filling in her eyes, but she forced herself not to care, not like this—not in front of them. She closed her eyes, swallowing and stumbled to press down on the push button with her tied hands, "Rick—Rick—" she whispered out, her voice breaking, her throat tight and scratching with the drug, "Rick—" she repeated again, and took a hitching breath—closing her eyes again… She was ruining everything. A sob escaped from her.

"Amanda!" and his agitated voice filled in the room, "Amanda!"

"I'm sorry," she breathed out, pushing down her sobs, "I'm so sorry, baby…"

The radio cracked over again, "Amanda!" he shouted over the static, "Amanda, what's happening?"

I'm sorry… she thought again as the psychopath took the radio from her tied hands. "Rick Grimes," Negan drawled out, suddenly sounding too much pleased, despite stating they'd ruined his good quiet night, "We met at least."

"Who's talking?"

"I'm Negan," the man answered simply without any further commotion, "I heard you've been looking for me." He stopped, his eyes wandering between her and the doctor, as Rick stayed in silence from the other side of the radio as the reality that they were in slowly sit in him. A tear escaping from her, Amanda closed her eyes again before Negan raised the radio back at his lips with a laugh, staring at her, and said, "Yeah, Rick, shit's about to get a hit."

The radio cracked again after that, "My wife—" Rick hissed over the static, his voice carrying all the vehemence of his, "If you touch her, I'll kill you in the most horrible way possible."

Startled, the man looked up at her, "Fuck me good! That was the exact threat she did too! Wow!" He let out another snickering laugh, "Two halves of a whole…damn." Then he shook his head, and brought the radio back to his lips, "Now why don't you come back to Hilltop stopping _trying_ to kill my people so we can have a talk." He paused, and laughed again, "Don't worry, it won't take _long_."

* * *

_So yeah, here we are... I guess Amanda and Rick was always going toward this direction, both finally admitting that to each other... Human nature is a very complex thing, and wanted to explore that, too. And that deal "you take charge in public, I take charge in private" is actually from Wheel of Time, a couple from that series managed their relationship like this, a very powerful couple like Rick and Amanda, too. (Lan and Nynaeve if anyone is curious.)_

_Gloriously alive comes from the same series too, the correct quote is-"Almost dead yesterday, maybe dead tomorrow, but alive, gloriously alive, today." I'm having an idea with Amanda and Rick-another story, and it revolves around this quote, so wanted to add it also here in a way, because I think this's also a quote made for TWD._

_And Negan...was so much fun to write! I thought about who I'd use to sell them out, and Ethan seemed so obvious, I wanted Amanda feel really betrayal. The doctor, unfortunately, suit my interest very well for that purpose._


	14. Chapter 14

IXV.

Whoever was that had betrayed them Rick was really going to kill him in the most horrible way. Blood drumming in his ear, Rick stumbled out of the car and rested himself at the pick-up's door, her voice echoing in his mind much like in his dreams…

_Rick! Rick! Rick!_

For a second or so he was back at the prison's corridor, running like a demented man to find her, his ax in his hand—blood dripping from his fingers… "Rick—Rick—!" Daryl called at him, shaking his shoulder, pulling him out of the vision.

He blinked once, focusing himself back to the world…back to the reality. Amanda—his wife…

Daryl had left the truck with Beth, and both were leaned over him, checking him with wary eyes as Rick stood against the vehicle's door. They all should've heard the radio exchange between him and Negan.

Amanda was with Negan. That maniac had his wife, his pregnant wife. Rick couldn't keep his promise. He'd told her he would keep her safe, her and their babies. And he couldn't. He'd let that sonofabitch take her from him.

_You'd never let anything happen to me…_ she was saying in his mind, staring at him in the eyes, laying on the bed naked for him, her every defense stripped off her, trusting him completely, accepting, giving willingly—and he had failed her again.

The world turned around him, slipping off its axis—his world was turning upside down once again—and he—he… He could do something. He needed to get her back. He needed to. He couldn't let them have her. He remembered the way her voice had come from the radio, whispering at him, telling she was so sorry. He shook his head. He had to pull himself back together. Amanda needed him. He wanted to crash on his knees on the ground, and tear his chest apart with cries, but Amanda didn't need that. She needed him to get her back.

Rick had to do it. Get her back. But how?

How he was going to get her back?

He tried to think—tried to understand what had happened. Someone had betrayed them…someone but who? How? And more importantly that she or he was still with them now?

"Rick!" Beth called at him, her face paled with worry, her lips quivering, "What— what happened?"

What he'd been afraid of had happened. "Someone betrayed us," he answered. Someone had informed on them to Negan. He should've never waited. He should've attacked at the day he'd come to Hilltop, never had given them a chance for a counterattack. Everything had come one after another—learning about the twins, the Kingdom…

He stopped the thoughts. This second guessing, blaming himself wasn't going to save Amanda now. They had had to take the risk. They couldn't have waited until Negan came and took what they tried to build. Kingdom's fighters arrived with their King too, parking their vehicles beside Daryl's truck as the same time the rest of their team; Glenn, Maggie, Rosita, Spencer and a few other Alexandrians, including Aaron and Eric, and Claire—Maggie's new friend from the gardens.

And they were all looking at him.

"What happened?" Ezekiel asked the same as they circled him in a half-arc in front of the pick-up, hands on the weapons, still alert, "Is it your wife, Rick Grimes?"

Rick nodded and brought up the radio, and pushed the button again, "All teams," he called in, adjusting the ranges, "Stand down. We have a stand down," he ordered, "Wait for further instructions."

The King shook his head. "We started this, Rick Grimes, we cannot retreat now."

Rick gave the man a cool look, "He has my wife."

He had to think. He had to find a way. They knew they were here. If they attacked, who knew what would happen now. They must be already prepared and he couldn't risk Amanda that way. No. Before they did anything else, they needed to get her back first.

"If we surrender, we all will pay for it," Ezekiel countered, "You brought us into this. We have to finish it."

Rick shook his head. Calling off the troops was going to be problematic as well. "_He has my wife_—" he repeated, stressing out the words, "My pregnant wife with twins. If we attack them now, she's dead."

"We all were aware of the risks," the man said ominously and Rick wanted to punch him in the face for a second as his hand slightly moved toward his hip on instinct. He would do whatever he needed to keep Amanda alive. He was going to get her back, but first he needed to keep her alive, and that meant he needed them to keep together, all of them.

"They already know we're out there," Rick stated the fact, forcing himself to relax his hand. "We lost the element of the surprise. They're prepared. If you attack, they'll crush _you._" There was a strong emphasis on the last word, to make the man know that if they decided to proceed it was going to be only Kingdom. Without their support, the rocket launcher and the truck, the Kingdom had no chance in harming Sanctuary in any way.

Understanding his point, Ezekiel nodded. "We're gonna need to talk through this."

Rick nodded, "We may have a spy in our ranks," he told the King, "Someone betrayed us. Whatever we do, we need to keep it secret now."

Glenn cut in, "The radios are with us," he said, pointing at himself, and the others. Rick got one, and Daryl, Glenn and the King himself. Back at the outposts, Richard and Jesus had the other radios, and Rick didn't believe they would betray them, and it was hard to hide a walkie-talkie inside the pockets. They'd come here light, there were no backpacks. "Even if there is a spy among us, the mole will have no way to communicate with them," Glenn continued.

Rick bobbed his head a bit in return. He thought of searching the backpacks at the vehicles but something was telling him the mole was still back at Hilltop. They'd captured Amanda. They must've needed an inside man for that. For a moment or so, the scenarios ran through his mind again—what if, what if they hurt her—harmed her—or the babies… She already had gotten a miscarriage because of a fight. He pushed the thoughts away, and steeled his mind. She was okay. She was fine. He'd heard her. Her voice had been shaking, but she was okay. Nothing had happened to her. Nothing was going to happen to her. Rick was going to get her back.

The radios were out of the question nevertheless. They couldn't use them as Negan and his men would be monitoring them. They must've heard his call for the stand down, so they also knew he'd followed his _instructions_. Negan was waiting for him.

And Rick had to go to him.

He looked at the people circled around him. Combine with his own people and the King's own militia, they had a force of twenty-six people. Abraham and Sasha were with Jesus's team, and Michonne, Scott and Heat were with Richard's. He needed to get all of the teams back, but first he needed to find Jesus.

"We go Satellite outpost, and pick up Jesus and his team," Rick stated, "We need to talk to him."

The road back to the Satellite outpost was open and without any trap as if they already knew he wouldn't dare to do anything as long as Amanda was a hostage. Rick drove the pick-up alone as the others followed him, feeling his stomach cold like a stone, in his ears, there was the man's sick snicker…calling them two halves of a whole…

The maniac had claimed that she'd made the same threat as well, and before he could stop himself, thoughts assaulted his mind again…scenarios in which she might've made that threat. If they hurt her, if they touched her… The last time a psychopath had taken hostages from his people, Rick had lost the man who had become like a father to him. His knuckles turned to white as he gripped the wheel, tighter—his teeth gritting each other.

If they even put a hand on her… He hit at the wheel with a guttural growl-scream.

It was killing him—killing him thinking her like this, knowing as he rode, Amanda was with them…scared and angry— If only he would hear her voice again, would tell her everything was going to be okay. She should've stayed back at home. Rick should've never let her come to Hilltop. He should've never. He was never going to let her away before his eyes—_never_ again. His only relief was Carl had stayed back at home, so he had one less thing to worry about now.

Half of an hour, they found Jesus and the rest of them at the rendezvous point for the Satellite outpost.

"Is there a way we can slip inside Hilltop?" Rick asked as soon as he stepped out of the pick-up, his eyes trained on Jesus.

"For a rescue mission?" the former recruiter asked back.

He nodded. He had to get her back. They couldn't do anything as long as Negan had Amanda. He couldn't let anyone jeopardize her like that. The risks were, though, gigantic. Negan wasn't a fool. He probably was expecting something like this, as well. They needed to find a distraction. Something to get his attention, another deception.

Looking at him, Jesus shook his head, "No. There's only one entrance, main gate."

"Could we climb the walls? Are there any weak points?" he questioned further. There had to be. There had to be something. They needed to get her back. _He_ needed to get her back.

_I'm always safe with you, Rick…_ in her mind she told him again with a smile, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him at the lips… then the scene shifted and he saw her spinning Judith up in the air, laughing merrily at the day Judith called her _mommieee_… She had to be back where she belonged—with them… in their home…with them…with her family. If something happened to her—

He crushed the thought again… No! Nothing was going to happen to her. He was going to get her back.

"There's a few—" Jesus was saying as Rick turned his attention to them, "But if we have a mole inside, they might know about them as well."

Rick nodded back, and turned to Daryl. "Daryl, you go and find Richard's group. We need everyone back together. Don't use radios. They're listening to it." He turned to Ezekiel then, "You said we started this, and you were right. We can't stop now. If we surrender, we're done. There's no going back from this, but we can't go on before I get my wife back."

Ezekiel gave him another look, weighing him up and down. "Negan is in the Hilltop—" Rick pushed further, "We know exactly where he is now. But he doesn't know about us. This still might be our chance."

As if he finally understood him, the King nodded back. "Rick, what're you going to do?" Glenn asked.

"Negan asked me for a talk," Rick declared, giving all of them a look, "I'm going to talk to him."

For the next fifteen minutes, they discussed the plan, and at the end Rick got on the pick-up and started driving back to Hilltop.

He was going to get her back.

_Then _he was going to make them pay. He'd made a promise. In the most horrible ways.

# # #

Sitting at the floor of the Gregory's old office, her hands and legs tied with duct tape, secured to the radiator in the room as well with a padlock and chain, Amanda wished at least to be alone.

No such luck for her tonight though.

After the radio talk with Rick had finished, the mustache man, Simon, she'd deduced, had left, but Negan had stayed with her the whole time. She wondered if it was another precaution, as if her ties and chains weren't already enough, but if there was really needed a lookout for her, that person wouldn't have been Negan himself. Though, the man wasn't surely here to keep her in company so she wouldn't get _bored_.

No. Negan liked to get people doing his shit, managing things from afar. From everything Dwight and Cherry had told them about him, Amanda had realized, the man portrayed himself as a figurehead that stayed behind the curtain, pulling the strings, a name everyone uttered in fright but no one really saw but this time he had step down, and Amanda was getting the idea that was special occasion for the man.

She had to do something. She had to—she had to think. Her limbs still felt half listless, limp and she was chained and tied, and never alone, but still she had to do something. She couldn't just sit on her ass here, and feel sorry for herself.

Rick was coming. She knew he was. He'd never leave her with this psychopath. Her insides were hurting, imagining how much he was hurting now, blaming himself for what had happened. She hated Negan more because of that, because making the man she loved go through this shit once again, hated him with her every being.

He was coming, and they were going to use her as a bargaining chip against him.

She hated it, too, and what if—what if something happened to him because of her… How she could live after that? How she could live without him? Her old fears caught her again—how she had felt when Maggie had thought Glenn had died—No… No… she wasn't going to lose Rick. She couldn't. They—she—she couldn't do this alone. She needed him. God, she needed him so much. She…she was pregnant with his babies. And there were Carl and Judith… They…they all needed him. She had to do something! She had to.

If only her mind didn't feel like a mush. It wasn't bad as before—cobwebs at least had cleared off, but still—everything was a mess and she needed her wits now. More than anytime. They'd stripped her off of her weapons, had taken her gun and knives, but she still had her wits, her best weapon.

She tried to get her facts straight. Her eyes briefly wandered around the room, then over herself—well, the first fact was pretty obvious. No way of escape. She was pretty all bounded, and it was kind of ironic how she had ended up like this two day in a row, all tied up, and how different both experiences were from each other. Everything was really different in perspective. With Rick, the whole experience was mind-blowing, but here—well, here she was trapped just like a wild animal.

And Rick was coming, another fact. And they were going to use her against him, another unfortunate fact, she was just a bait in the trap. A trap that was laid for him, she knew, they were preparing something, they had to, and she had to help him, but how? Facts… she thought again, trying to clear her head further, trying to recall every little thing that had happened since she had started regaining her conscious back.

Negan had been surprised when he'd come Hilltop—_what the hell happened here?_ He'd asked to Simon as they had dragged her back to the mansion. She'd been correct in her assumption. Negan hadn't known about Hilltop's destruction before he arrived Hilltop. And the mustache man, Simon, had said back they had to be taught so it meant he was the one who had decided on the teaching. She had possibly found her riotous subordinate. But it was hardly useful to her now. She needed something else.

Aside from Negan's mostly silent but leering company, she'd been left alone. No one had questioned her, even bothered to ask to learn where they were coming from. No. She was just the bait, and the trap for Rick. Those questions were going to be directed to Rick. Specially to him. Specially to him by Negan. And it wasn't Negan's style. The colonies usually dealt with his lieutenants at the outposts. Negan was the man behind the curtain, the charismatic cult leader, so tonight it was really a special occasion.

Another fact…Negan had taken this personally. She wondered if anyone had ever challenged him before the way Rick did. Rick had managed to rally a rebellion against him between his colonies in a matter of days, so the man had to be spooked but also intrigued enough to give up on his movie night with his wives.

And Negan had wives…as going on with his cult leader personality, like…like Charles Manson, a hero of his own story and might be possible that he was thinking he found his arch-nemesis? _I heard you've been looking for me…_

She knew people like Negan—the narcissist, megalomaniac psychopaths in grandeur complex looking always for something to feel better about themselves.

Then Amanda knew. She made a little retching sound, closing her eyes, and she didn't even need to fake it because she always felt sick and breathed out loudly. His attention caught, Negan turned to her. "You okay, doll?" and his eyes narrowed, "Fuck! You look like crap!"

No kidding, she snickered inside. She really must look like crap, but she thought it would just work better for her advantage. Looking pretty, fragile, and in bounds—well, she knew it hit a chord in the guy, as well. _Men_. She lifted her eyes, "Can I have water and some salted crackers?" she asked then, "It's the sickness…my stomach…" She gave him a look, "The B-HCG hormone doubles up in multiple pregnancies."

He looked like her, mildly…curious, "Shit! You always retch like this?"

She shrugged, "You get used to it."

He walked to the door, and shouted for someone, "Get us some water and biscuits—"

Amanda cut in, "Salted biscuits—"

He paused a little, shooting at her a look, "Salted biscuits," he added then.

She nodded as he closed the door back, "Thanks."

It took less than a minute a bottle of water and a pocket of biscuits arrived. He took them outside the door and approached her but didn't give them to her. Her hands still tied, this was going to be hard, but he just looked at her down as she looked at him back in silence.

"My goodness, you're really…coolheaded," he observed.

"Do you want me to cry?"

"You think he'll come for you, won't you?"

Inside she smiled victorious. "You know he will. Otherwise you wouldn't be here, either."

"Smart—" He nodded back, "You've got his babies, right?" He gave her another look, "Did you get knocked up?"

She shrugged, and for the first time she'd been asked that question she didn't give a direct answer. "Accidents happen."

"The doctor said you were looking for him to learn if you can get pregnant," Negan stated though.

Damn! She lifted her head and pointed at the water and crackers. "Can I get them?"

He looked thoughtful. "Hmm… I don't know. I heard you were an ex-cop—" the man commented, as if it he was really contemplating on it, "What if I untie you and you attack me?"

"You could just take the chains off—" she offered.

"What if you still attack me?" he asked again, cracking up a smile, almost…flirtatious.

"With my hands and legs still tied?" She shook her head, "I got training, but wouldn't risk it." She paused, and swallowed and confessed, "I already lost a baby once in a fight."

He nodded, his expression shifting for a second, "I heard."

She gave him another look, "So…can I get them?" she asked again when he didn't speak further. In answer, he leaned toward her and unlocked the padlock and uncurled the chains. He threw at her water bottle and crackers. "Thank you," she said back.

"Do you like stories?" she asked him, taking a sip from the water and started munching crackers, "Because I've got a good one."

He tilted his head aside at her with laughing eyes, tapping his bat against his hip, "Really?" he asked back, "It's about people living in harmony and peace, right?"

She stopped eating and looked at him straight back in the eyes. "No. It's about a man, a man called Governor—" she said, and started to…retell, "So, once upon a time there was a man called a Governor who used to…govern a town. They were a bunch of people in harsh, difficult times. They were quite happy, though, still living so large… They were careless, selfish, but happy people. They have everything or so they believed. One day Governor found another man—a man in a prison, who was taking care of his own people, then the Governor got greedy. He wanted what the man in the prison had too. The other man's pastures looked greener to him, and he wanted to take it. The man in the prison said they didn't have to do this. The man told the Governor they could live together." She paused, "The Governor didn't believe him, didn't want to. He just wanted what the man had, nothing else."

Negan let out a snicker, shaking his head, "And let me guess—The man killed the Governor?"

She smiled back, "No," she said, "The Governor took the prison, took what the man had, and laid it to dust and ruin. The man lost his home, lost his people, lost what he all had. But he was still alive, so he endured. He got his people back, found another home for them, and kept going. The Governor…" She paused, "I don't know what happened to him—" She pursed her lips. She actually knew—from what she'd learned Beth and Rick's words, Michonne had killed the man, saving Rick's life, a fact she still didn't know if she liked or not, but Negan didn't need to know that. "You see, no one remembers it anymore," she went on, "No one remembers _him_ anymore. His name disappeared, his words disappeared, his people disappeared. Only ghosts walk in his home now—ghosts and death."

"Well, color me impressed," the man smiled back at her, "You're a great storyteller." He paused, pointing his baseball bat at her, "So you say this isn't his first time, huh?"

She shrugged, "Governors are easy to find in these days."

Negan laughed out as if it was the funniest joke in the world, "Makes one wonder about human nature, eh?" he asked again, "But you see, Governor seems like a stupid man. He got jealous, like a little child, took it personal. Shit should never be personal."

In answer, she threw another cracker into her mouth, and smiled back knowingly. It was time to toss the dice, "So this's nothing personal?" she asked, praying she wasn't playing with fire, "You always forgo your movie night to do this for everyone?"

The man threw his head backward, and laughed out loudly, then pointed his bat at her again, and told her, bouncing at his feet with each word, "My, you _are_ good."

She munched another cracker but didn't talk further. The seed was planted. There was nothing she could do more for now. A second later, Simon walked into the room, and announced, "He's come."

And Amanda felt her heart stop. Negan walked back to her side and took the water and crackers from her. "Let's do this then, doll—" he told her with a smile, chaining her back to the radiator, and the nickname really retched her stomach this time, and she _really_ wanted to throw up—

Then Rick walked in the room.

And seeing the scene, rushed toward at Negan— "You, sonofabitch!"

# # #

He was going to kill the bastard with his own hands! He was going to rip his throat with his teeth!

Rick threw a punch in his face before hands pulled him back and started hitting at his sides at the same time. Everything hurt, pain was like a fire with each blow, but he could only see Amanda, sitting on the floor, tied and chained like an animal.

"Rick!" she was shouting as Rick doubled down with blows and kicks, "Rick! Stop! Stop it!"

The man gave out a laughter, "Wow! Fuck!" he shouted and straightened back. "Will you look at that!"

The fists and kicks stopped suddenly, and Rick started straightening back, his blood was bleeding, his lips were cracked, but his eyes were still only on Amanda—that thing in him still howling—The sonofabitch had chained his wife like a wild animal!

Rubbing his chin where Rick had hammered down, the sick bastard gave out a leery laughter, and _bounced_ on his feet slightly as if he was having fun, and turned to Amanda, "Damn! He doesn't like others get you tied up, eh?" He tsked, turning to him, "Quite possessive, hmm?"

Rick shot the bastard a glare, "Untie her."

He shook his head, looking at him, startled, then turned around in his people, "You see this?" he asked, "He still thinks he can give orders around here. Wow."

"_Untie her,_" Rick repeated, his hand angling toward his hip but his holster was empty. As he'd walked through the gates as the psychopath had _asked_ him to, they'd taken his gun, his knives and ax.

"Rick—" Amanda spoke up as Rick gave the man a hard stare, "I'm fine. Please."

His stomach knotted, twisting. They—she, she shouldn't be here. Not with this sick, psychotic bastard. She should be at home, where she belonged, he passed in his mind again, with him, with Carl and Judith, with her family— "Listen to the lady, Rick—" The bastard's voice cut through his thoughts as he pointed at Rick with his baseball bat, its head barbed, "She's a smart one."

Rick hated to think what made the man to get that conclusion—Amanda should've never needed to talk with a man like this, never needed to deal with someone like him again, never again. She got Rick. She didn't do it anymore, she got him, and he had failed her.

And she was looking at him with imploring eyes—telling him almost stop. He—he needed to cool his head off. Amanda needed him. He needed to save her, but not like this. He took a few steps backward and sat down one of the folded chairs in front of the desk. "Good—" Negan then started, "This shit not cool, Rick—" the man said, "Not cool. I was just chatting with your wife civilly just moments ago." He smiled, tossing a glance back at Amanda, "She told me about a story about a governor and a man in a prison."

The comment had his head snapped up at him, his eyes growing sterner, "She told you how it's ended?"

"Oh yeah, she did—" the psychopath smiled again, mocking and dry, "Such a story—" He sat on the desk at the other side, made a rough snort out of his nose, "the happily ever after—" Then bowed his head toward him, "Bet you think this story has a happy ending too, right?"

Rick stared at him, and decided to cut to the chase, "There's no happy ending, no surrender, either," he said, his eyes glued on the mans', "My people cut the roads. We circled this place. Let her go and we pull back."

The man's hand hit at the table, as his voice boomed and he stared at back Rick openly, "Wow! You actually formed up that line to me…" He shook his head, "You got nuts—I give you that—delusional, yeah—got them."

Rick shook his head and leaned over the desk, "My people are coming from home—soon we lay a complete siege on this place." He completely lied. Negan didn't know—he wouldn't know. Whoever the spy was—they didn't know about Alexandria—didn't know how much people they truly had. He could play with that. Negan wouldn't take the risk too. His own people were still at the outposts and back at the Sanctuary, prepared for a possible attack. Negan couldn't be at everywhere.

"You can't be at everywhere," so Rick told him, "_Let her go._"

"But I _am_ at everywhere—" Negan said though in answer, and pointed at one of his men with his barbed baseball bat, "Who are you?"

"I'm Negan—" the man answered without missing a beat, and the psycho pointed at another one, "Who are you?"

The other did too, "I'm Negan."

Negan pointed at him then, "See it? I'm at everywhere."

"I'm getting her back—" Rick only said back.

The man shook his head, "Man, you really ain't listening, are you?" He leaned forward too, "There's no happy ending here, Rick." He stood up, "Lemme show you."

The man walked to the window, and Rick followed. Standing beside the psychopath Rick watched outside. Lights—it was the first thing Rick had noticed. He brought his arm up over his head a bit as sudden flashes caught his eyes—and slowly lowering it back, he saw flashlight mounted at the top of the jeeps—military jeep—more than two dozen—each vehicle looked like having a dozen or so men inside—holding up machine guns.

Negan started laughing beside him, "I told you, Rick," he snickered, "Shit's about to get a hit."

Then Rick saw Daryl and Jesus pushed through the gates—following up by Ezekiel and Richards, and others.

# # #

Lights—lights were at everywhere.

They brought them back outside too, Amanda still bounded, directed by one of Negan's men. The man had a mustache, and hard, violent expression, and his fingers digging at Amanda's elbow as they'd freed her legs but kept her hands tied at her front.

She tried to look passive, but Rick still could see the fright she was trying to hide behind her solid expression. Rick wanted to tell her everything was going to okay, wanted to tell her he was going to get her back, he had to. He had to save her. He'd ripped off a man's throat to save Carl, if he would've needed, he would've done the same, but—they—they had fallen into a trap once again.

He—he had failed again. His nightmare had come true.

He looked at the jeeps, lights, and men with the guns. Too many, too fucking many than he'd believed.

His people were knelt down on the ground in a half arc in the front of the red mansion together with Ezekiel and Jesus. Daryl was at the head of it, together with Beth, next to her, there was Maggie and Glenn, and Abraham, Michonne, next to her Sasha, Aaron and Erick, and everyone else. Everyone else. Rick looked for the King and Hilltop's people, too and found them clustered at the barn's door, sitting down at the ground, their hands and legs bounded.

Lights flashed a second more again, Rick looked around again—so many, so fucking many… How many people Negan had truly? In front of him there must be at least two hundred men—twice of his own joint force, and there should be still other people back at the Sanctuary and the outposts… The numbers sunk his heart further as the realization hit at him harder… His head swept—lights flashing…and it was so hard to breath…and he was failing—Amanda, his unborn babies, his people, Jesus, the King… but more than anything his family.

Negan stood beside a jeep in front of them as Rick stared ahead—his eyes pricking—reddish, hurting, trying to swallow the tight lump through his throat... The other man brought Amanda to the jeep and dropped her at the ground beside the vehicle. Rick twisted aside, and he wanted to rip apart the man—for putting a hand on her—for touching her…

_If you touch her, I'll kill you the most horrible way possible._

Leaving his side, Negan walked to Ezekiel, shaking his head. "_You_—" the psychopath told him, still shaking his head, "You _broke_ my heart, friend. I thought we understood each other." He tsked at him, dragging his bat at the ground, "And you tried to kill my people. Not good!"

He raised his hand, "Arat!"

A woman with dark shot hair walked a step ahead at the jeep where Amanda was sat beside, and raised her gun at the King and without hesitation shot—The bullet passed beside them with a whistle in the air, and a second later Ezekiel dropped down at the ground, a hole in his forehead.

Richard from the barn side started yelling as other men started beating at him as they all stood in shock, looking at the fallen king.

"Man—that was clean!" Negan boomed, "Thought better if we start this way. See it's gonna be a long night—a crappy long night, and I'm already a bit tired…" He snickered with a long, and turned to Rick, "Have you meet with Lucille, Rick?" the bastard asked, twisting aside to him, rising his baseball bat toward him, "She's my naughty girl…and she's getting thirsty."

# # #

Jesus was the next one. He raised his arm again and another bullet whistled in the air, and Jesus fell back…

Amanda stared ahead, her eyes widening—filling in with tears.

# # #

"So—" Negan turned to all of them as Rick still stood beside him, "Let's get this clear real quick, people." He gave them a smile, "I'm Negan—" and tipped his head backwards, "and this's the new world you live in from now on. We protect your sorry asses, and demand only one thing in return. Your obedience. And half of everything you have." He paused again, smiling, "See, it's quite simple."

He looked at Ezekiel and Jesus's fallen bodies, "They must've known it, known that I absolutely don't take shit like this. But since we've not officially met yet, for this time you get the easy way out. I'm a reasonable man. Boy, I want you to work for me, and you can't do that if you're dead. That's quite simple, too." He nodded at himself, bringing up his baseball bat at his shoulder, and it all started to feel like a dream—a nightmare to Rick; his nightmares had been always vague and cryptic, but this one was as hard as the walking corpses in their world— "But—" Negan continued, "You killed my people, rebelled my good people against me, and tried to attack us. I admire your tenacity, people, but that shit ends tonight."

The man eyes found Rick, "The next one who tries to do something wins a place next to Jesus and the King—are we clear?" he asked. Rick stayed in silence.

Negan walked closer to him, "Now, man, I asked a question. It's rude not to answer."

Rick still stayed in silence, glaring at him. "I see…" The man shook his head, giving out a load sigh, "I thought we could do this in the easy way…but well, the hard way then."

The bastard walked closer to him then and held his shoulder, hunching his shoulders to look at him. "Or you could just kneel and swear fealty to me and we all can go back to our homes for tonight. Well, you sorry shits will return one person less at least, but that's only expected." He gave Rick a look, "There's still a punishment we need to deal with—but really, it could be easier this way."

_They make you kneel_—Rick recalled Dwight's words when they'd come Alexandria for the first time.

In answer, Rick only looked at the psychopath again.

"Well, don't say I didn't ask nicely first—" the bastard laughed at him, and turning he walked closer to the arc where the rest of them still knelt down at the ground and stood in front of the Glenn.

"Sorry, mate, this ain't nothing personal—" he said, raising the bat above his head, and Rick started screaming, "Tonight ain't just your night."

And the bat fell at Glenn.

# # #

Flesh, blood, and bones… Amanda watched the scene with tears over her cheeks, and screams in her ears as the bat kept falling at Glenn's head, each blow harder than the last—having a maniacal zest that made everything turned in her into the bile…

Amanda closed her eyes and started heaving up, tears and bile coming out of her at the same tie.

# # #

Blood dripped off the bat's tip, blood and brain tissue.

His friend—his oldest friend—the man who had saved him at the very beginning, the man who had helped him when he had no reason whatsoever for it, the man who had brought him back to his family, the man who was always the best of them.

He was on his knees.

He couldn't stop it—he just couldn't—watched his friend get beaten to death.

_He comes and beats one of you to death to get you into submission._

And Rick was already on his knees… Hands were still holding him back—a gun pointed at his head—bringing him to submission… He always said they needed to fight. If they wanted to live, they had to fight… He…he had ripped a man's throat to save Carl. If he could, he would do…but this wasn't a fight he could win. They were fighting, and they were dying.

His eyes skipped aside toward Amanda as she folded herself in two, throwing up—and he tried to go to her side, but hands stopped him again. He couldn't even go to her. He couldn't even protect her. His wife...his babies... He couldn't...

The psychopath drew out a long sigh, "Wow! He took it like a champ—" The man sickly laughed as with the corner of his eyes Rick saw Glenn's hand twitch, and turned back to Rick, "Now…where we've left Rick?" he asked, bending toward him.

Rick lifted his head, "I'm gonna kill you—" he whispered out, "Not today, not tomorrow. But one day—" he promised. He was. He was going to kill the psychopath. His eyes skipped at Glenn's ruined body again. In the most horrible way.

"Wow—are you dense or what?" Negan asked back, "Can't you understand?" He shook his head, "Goodness!" the psycho exclaimed out, showing him the bat—still smeared with blood and tissue over the barbs around its head—sick…all of it…it was just sick. "I'm trying not to kill y'all here but you're making it so difficult. And you see—my people are quite angry too—you _almost_ killed us. They want revenge too. But you can't work for us if you're dead, see…" He laughed out as if it was a joke, "That's our dilemma, too."

He spun on his feet suddenly, "BUT I can't come and teach you pricks a lesson all the time… That's dull." He shook his head, and pointed his bat again at Rick, "So—" and once again smiled that sick smile, "Who are you?"

Rick stayed in silence.

"Very well then."

Negan's eyes moved towards Amanda, and in a heartbeat, Rick was again at his feet, moving toward the maniac… Hands got him back again—Negan returned to him. "No. Not her. I gave her my word—" He shook his head, "I told her if she was a good girl, I keep her away from all of the shit that would go on tonight." Another smile, "And I'm a man of my word."

He turned around again, and started walking back toward his people—and stopped in front of Beth…

Daryl threw himself at him but held back by four men, and Maggie started crying even worse—and Amanda screamed…

"For the love of god Rick!" she yelled, "KNEEL!"

In a second, before the bat fell… Rick knelt.

His hand stopped in the air, and the man tossed at him a look over his shoulder, and that sick smile appeared over his lips again.

He slowly dropped his hand.

He turned again and walked back in front of him—standing towering above him.

"Who are you?" Negan asked again.

Rick lifted his head and stared at the man.

In the old days, Rick used to play poker with his father, and he'd told once Rick,_ sometimes you have to lose a hand to win the game_.

That time for him had arrived. The time for the first time after the turn had arrived—a time he just couldn't win with fighting. He was going to kill that man. It was still simple as that, but not today.

Today…today he was going to endure. For his family he could do everything.

_A man can bear most anything, if he must,_ his grandpa also used to tell him, and if a defeat was what he must bear to keep his family alive now, then Rick was going to do it. He could do anything for his family.

So, Rick stared at Negan, and said, "I'm Negan."

* * *

_A man can bear most anything, if he must-a Jaime Lannister quote from ASoF. I think it works amazingly for Rick too. _

_I read online in the comics that Rick faked submission in order to fool Negan, so he could get the psycho relaxed about him, and I believe that way works just better for his characterization, too, so wanted to play with the idea. A sort mixed submission._

_This was going to be a bit more angsty to tell the truth, but as we're already having shit days with the Corona virus, I wasn't be able to deal anything worse than this. So Glenn died, but everyone else still lives._

_You know-one part of me just wants to write Rick and Amanda having kids, and be happy because real life is so awful right now. I'm having a bit flu, too, don't think it's Corona, I just got cold, I guess, but not taking any chances I've put myself into a quarantine._

_Wherever you are, stay safe, and stay alert. Hope we all gonna be well soon._


	15. Chapter 15

XV.

"See?" Negan said, looking down at him, "It wasn't _that_ hard."

His insides roared—that thing—that feral wilderness howling, and Rick only wanted to sink his teeth at the maniac's neck, rip his flesh apart—hurt him, hurt him very badly. But he stayed in silence, still on his knees, only staring ahead behind the maniac's back toward Amanda. His eyes saw only her now.

She was still sitting beside the truck on the ground, her tied hands across her lap, her eyes glistened and moist with tears, like every each of them.

_For the love of god, Rick… Kneel!_

He could do everything for her, for them, for his family. Over his eyes, the scene flashed again, the bat before it fell on Beth—he had stopped it. He'd protected them, had done what he had to. Their lives were more important than his pride, knowing that he was defeated—Mentally he shook his head—not yet. Not yet. He'd lost this fight, but the battle hadn't finished yet.

To his left, Glenn's body was now motionless as Maggie silently cried with heartfelt sobs next to it. He needed to get his people back to safety now—first, Amanda. His eyes found her again and they looked at each other… He needed to get her, take her in his embrace, tell her everything was going to be okay, swear to her they'd only lost a fight tonight, but they would win the battle. He needed to swear to her he was going to keep her safe. Her and their babies… all of them.

Negan caught his look, and his lips curved up mockingly, as if he read his thoughts. Rick still only stared ahead. He was waiting now—only bidding his time. He was going to be the only who laughed for the last. He was going to kill the maniac.

"Okay. Let's finish this," Negan said a disinterested shrug in his voice, "Sure everyone wants to get back to home now—" the maniac said, tossing at him another dry smile and turned to his left side and asked his right-hand man, "Bring me the second in command at Kingdom," he ordered.

He turned to Rick again as the man with the mustache walked toward the barn where Kingdom's soldiers were seated and brought up Richard. "See—today is the career day. We've got an ascension." The psychopath laughed out, "The King is dead. Long live the King."

His right man dropped Richard on his knees beside Rick. "What's your name?" Negan asked.

Richard looked at him, open and…hostile… "Is this a trick question?"

The man laughed, bouncing on his feet a little, shaking his head, "Jesus! I'm contradicting myself, eh?" He laughed louder, "Damn. No, buddy, I was just asking your name."

"Richard—" the former guard answered simply.

"Well, Richard, congrads, you're the King now. No, take your men back to your land and remember what happened tonight the next time you feel yourself—rebellious." He nodded at Ezekiel with his head, "Remember what happened when Negan came down."

Still on his knees, Richard only looked at Negan back. The man shook his head, "Go on now—" and shooed him away with waving his hand, "Off you go. Take your people and leave."

Without a word, Richard stood up and started walking away toward his people as they slowly disappeared behind the walls. Negan turned to his own second in command again, "Simon, who's his right-hand man?" he asked, pointing at Jesus.

The mustache man, Simon, looked at Jesus too, "He was the second in command after Gregory."

"Oh, right—" Negan said with another laugh, "Forgot about it. We killed him, too, right?"

Simon shrugged, "Yeah."

"Well, that's bad, isn't it?" he asked, directing his gaze this time to Rick, "See, right-hand men are important. I mean—what would happen if you don't have one—a hell of a lot of work. Not cool." He turned to his own right-hand man again, "So who are we gon' pick up now?"

Simon walked closer to them, adjusting his belt, and pursed his lips. "Ethan—" he told Negan, leaning toward further, "His brother's still at the Satellite outpost, too."

Suddenly, his breath caught in his chest again as Rick remembered Amanda's words… _Saviors take wards, Sanctuary take hostages…_

His eyes darted toward her behind the men…sitting on the ground, still _away_ from them… as if, as if… No!

No!

He needed to get her back. He had to keep her safe. This—this was all to keep her safe. He couldn't do this if he didn't know she was safe. _Wherever you go, I go…You'll be never alone again…_he'd told her, he had promised she was never going to be alone again. They could _not_ take her from him! She belonged with him! She was his!

His head turned as his thoughts ran havoc inside his mind—fear and despair clutching at him—what if—what if they really did—what if he took her, how he could stop it—how could he hinder it?

He was powerless. He was defeated. Couldn't protect anyone, even the woman he loved. And yet again he was failing another woman he loved, who was pregnant with his children. His shoulders hunched—and if he wasn't already on his knees, he would've dropped on the ground. The truth was that he was powerless. He couldn't protect anyone, even couldn't have protected the man he'd saved his life. And they—they were going to take her away too. They were going to—

_What're ya gon' do now, sports? _echoed in his mind as her image tied and chained flashed over his eyes like a lighting, and something snapped in him.

Breathless, Rick lifted his eyes and looked at the psychopath standing in front of him, his jugular vein throbbing at his neck, and that nameless beast inside him snarling, his teeth setting on edge—itching... No one could take her from him. She was his! _You'd never let anything happen to me…_ He forcefully gulped, his throat dry and tight, screeching, and it felt the air was suffocating him as the world focused in one point—at Negan's neck. He could do it. He'd _already_ done it. For his family, he could do everything. His body strained like a stringed bow as he readied himself for action—it only took three seconds—teeth sinking into flesh, ripping apart… He was the wilderness.

And there was another moon high in the sky…

The old memory found him just as he leaped at his feet and attacked another sonofabitch, but before he could with the corner of his eyes, he caught Amanda's eyes. His gaze darted at her again as she stared at him, her body tensed as if she was stretched out over a rack, her eyes widened, her face even paler.

She had realized, Rick knew then. Even before they talked to each other, Amanda understood he was attacking, and she was begging at him silently; wide, imploring eyes begging him to stop…and as if she couldn't help herself, she gave a little smallest shake of her head.

Slowly, Rick tried to even out his breath, tried to silence down the beast inside him… He couldn't help her like this, he told himself. He could just die now like this. Yes, he would take Negan with him, but what else then? Dead people couldn't save anyone, he told himself again.

He had to live…for them. To save them, to protect them.

If he died now, Simon perhaps would kill everyone else afterward. Or worse… or did worse to them. Amanda was a beautiful woman, and there were so many men. And there was Beth, Maggie, Sasha, Michonne—no. No, they had to survive, then revenge.

As if she also realized his delirium had passed, she got relaxed, slumping back at the ground and let out a breath.

They sent Ethan and his people back at the mansion too, and then they were only them. "Arat?" Negan called this time, and Rick got tenser again, in waiting. The last time he called out for the short cut haired woman, things hadn't gone well for them.

The stoic woman jumped down at the jeep she was at and walked to them, in her hands there was a Polaroid machine. Once she arrived, she gave it to Negan. Negan then walked toward Glenn's beaten to death body.

Then he started taking photos.

Rick almost threw up. He opened his mouth, trying to breath easier, his chest tightening again— "How many of our people did they kill with that rocket launcher again?" Negan asked, taking another photo shot.

Simon growled out, shooting at them a seething look, "Seven."

"Seven—" Negan muttered out, "Seven gooood people." He shook his head, "Puff." He paused for a second, "Did you find the launchers?" he asked, twisting to his other lieutenant.

"Yes," the woman answered, "They had two."

The sonofabitch nodded, and turned to him again, "See, how reasonable I'm, Rick?" the maniac asked him, walking back to him, shaking the photos in his hands, "If I wasn't, I would've killed seven of you tonight…eye for an eye…but that would've been so…uncivilized, right?" He smiled. "But just as a smart man once told me, if there's crime, there also has to be a punishment." He pointed at Glenn's body with his finger, "I was very disappointed tonight, Rick. Like I told your wife, I was planning to have an easy night, watch movie with my wives. But instead I had to deal with this. I'm a simple man, Rick," he continued, and smiled at him, "So are my rules. If you please me, I reward you. But if you disappoint me—puff," He shook his head again, shaking the photos as his other hand raised his bat at his shoulder, covered with blood, "But if you disappoint me," he repeated, his eyes moving to the fallen bodies that were still at the ground, Ezekiel, Jesus, and Glenn, and said, stressing out each word, "I. make. you. suffer." Turning from the bodies, his dark eyes found Rick's again, "So now I'm gonna ask you a question, and your answer better not to disappoint me." The bastard bent down toward him, "Where _is_ your home?"

Rick stared at him back, and answered, "55 miles away at south—at the Redding. Alexandria."

A big, smarmy smile split his lips in two as the sonofabitch threw his arm up in the air, pleased, "See how _easier_ it is this way!" he exclaimed, "Wow! You need to get a reward for this." He paused, and twisting aside, he tossed a half smirk at Amanda, "All right doll, come up here and say ciaociao to your hubby—"

Rick sprung at his feet after the words, everything in him roaring in protest—but—before he could do anything else, Amanda, leaping at her feet, rushed to him and threw herself at him.

His arms wrapped her, bringing her closer to his chest… "Please—" she whispered at him, "Rick, please—"

His hand tightened at the back of her neck as he brought her even closer, his lips finding her ear, "I'll get you back. I'm gonna get you back."

She nodded against his neck, "Yes," she only said, her tears wetting his skin, her tied hands pressed against his chest, and Rick tipped his head to find her lips…

But before his lips claimed hers, she was taken from him.

# # #

Grabbing her left elbow, a hand pulled her back from his embrace.

She staggered at her feet, her tears running, feeling something was ripping off of her—and it was—Rick was ripping off of her—his arms—his warm—his protective embrace—his cocoon of safety. She almost dropped on her knees again and started crying—she was already crying, but it wasn't enough—she wanted to cry her heart out, tear her chest apart… She was taken from where she belonged—from his arms…

But, she had no choice. No chance, no choice.

She was nothing more than a bargaining chip, just like she had thought, a pretty doll to keep Rick in line. A hostage. _Saviors take wards, Sanctuary take hostages…_ she recalled her own damn words.

Her every cell was protesting at the idea—still—but the bodies… the bodies—she couldn't even look at Glenn—what if…what if...

No. She wasn't even going to think about it!

No.

On their own accounts, her eyes moved and found Glenn's ruined body—and the guilt found her again… It wasn't her fault, but it was also her fault… She—she should've never looked for Hilltop, never looked for the doctor… just would've taken an Atarax and learned to live with it…like all people did… Rick had come here because of her…because he couldn't risk her… It wasn't her fault, but it was her fault… and she didn't like it, either.

No… Negan wasn't the only one who hated feeling disappointed. No. They were going to make him pay. One way or another they were. For all the things the psychopath had done to them, they were going to make him regret ever to meet them.

Because she knew—she just knew even now—even defeated on his knees, Amanda knew Rick hadn't given up yet. She'd seen it in his eyes—just a few moments ago, he had seen it in _him_—ready to attack, ready to fight, and Amanda had been so afraid, so afraid he could've done something stupid.

They—they'd gotten beaten tonight, that was a fact, and there never had been any point in denying a fact, and there was time for everything. If Rick had attacked him, he would've gotten killed… The mere thought left her breathless again, recalling her fright—her fears catching her again—a life without him—Then they had exchanged a look, and sanity had come back to Rick.

Then Amanda knew it was a long game they played, but at the end they were going to win. She could do everything—_everything_ to get back in his arms again. They wanted her to be a pretty bargaining chip, forcing Rick into submission, but well, they were going to see.

She was taken as a hostage, a prisoner, but there was no such thing as a one-sided coin. At the other side, she was going in. She just needed to play her game well now. _If you please me, I reward you…_she passed in her mind, but how to get him pleased—

"Gotta stop it before it turned to NC-17, doll," Negan told her, his fingers digging into her through her quilted jacket, "You suckers get lost now, we'll come back to see you—say a week later ?" he asked, twisting to look at Simon, still holding her elbow, "So you better get prepared too," he said, and warned with another sick smile, "I don't want to be disappointed."

Slowly, they all started to stand up after the words, everyone but Maggie.

She was still sitting beside Glenn, as if she was in another world, her head bowed, crying—silently sobbing. Her heart swelled in her chest, seeing the woman—filling with pity, and she couldn't even image how it would be for the woman now—how much she must be suffering, losing the man she loved—

And the images filled in her again before she could stop it… Rick…

No!

She wasn't going to lose him. It still felt wrong—even now, thinking about herself and Rick—wrong and selfish, but she just couldn't help herself. She could never… Her hand went to her stomach, and she touched her babies… She—they—they all were going to be fine. They weren't going to lose anyone else tonight.

But Negan—Negan was looking at Maggie in a funny way that started worrying Amanda. "He—he was her husband," she then told Negan, trying to explain why she wasn't listening to him, so he could perhaps just show a little bit of mercy and leave her the fuck alone, but his expression only got—more interested.

Fuck!

"I see…" he murmured and titled his head at the zealot woman who seemed to jump on Negan's every command, "Let's take the widow too, and the doctor. We get them."

She twisted in his grip to face him, "No—" the word left her mouth even before she knew what had said, so she quickly added, before Rick walked toward them, too, "Please." She nodded at Maggie with her head, she couldn't care less what happened with the doctor right now, "Just let her be with her family."

Rick stopped beside them, too, and gave the man a look. ""Hmm—" Negan said back thoughtfully, "She looks pretty upset. She might get around her head other thoughts…" His eyes skipped at Rick, and smiled another of those sick smiles, "We got a good accord here tonight, I'd really hate to see it getting blown off."

"It won't—" Rick assured, "I'll deal with her."

"Hmm…" the maniac said again, then shook his head, "Nah… I want her—"

Maggie lifted her head after that, and opened her mouth and Amanda tried to think of something as Rick's jaw clenched, and this was—this was getting out of the hand _again_… "Besides, Mandy here, would like to have some company, right, doll?" the man asked, tightening his fingers, and she really started hating the nicknames.

Rick took a step closer, and Amanda wondered if the damn slithering snake of a man was testing them again—because all of this started to seem to her like a test—a test of violence and obedience—watching and measuring their reactions, and she'd started wondering if the show was _only_ for their benefits.

Something was odd—he was trying too much, but she couldn't think properly, when not Rick looked like a time bomb that would go off in every second. She turned to Negan again, "You don't have to do this—"

But the man shook his head, and motioned at his men to pick up Maggie, too— then suddenly Beth walked in front of Maggie and stared at them down.

Amanda felt her hearth stop. No…no… no… "Beth—" she whispered out in a hiss as the same time younger woman spoke with a clear voice, "Take me instead."

"Beth!" she exclaimed out, her voice rising, and behind them Daryl growled out, "Beth! Get back here."

Amanda closed his eyes as Negan gave Beth a through look-over. Rick followed his gaze, too, his eyes turning into stone. Daryl started making a move, but Rick caught him in a tight grip, before he could do anything else.

Negan was…intrigued, Amanda could see it, she could even…sense it. There was that swagger in his steps once again as the man dropped her arm and stalked toward Beth. "And why I'd take you instead?" Negan asked, his eyes caught on Beth's wide blue doelike eyes.

God damn you, Beth Greene!

"I'm her sister," Beth answered simply, "and I'm offering myself in her stead."

"Why?" Negan asked.

"Because I'm her sister."

"Hmm." The man said then nodded, "Okay."

Daryl growled out, fighting in Rick's arms, "No! No!" Rick tightened his arms, "Beth, no!"

"It's okay—" Beth said, turning to him, and raised her hand, "Daryl, please, I need to do this."

The taciturn, maniacal woman, touched at her hips, and turned to Negan as if she was waiting for another kill order, but Negan was just watching Rick handle Daryl with a smile, as if he was—entertained. Then he shook his head and brought his bloody bat at his shoulder again, "Well, tonight was as funny as a movie night, at least." He nodded at Arat then at them, "Get them inside, we're moving out." He climbed on the jeep beside them as Simon and his men started stuffing them at the back of the open jeep, "Be seeing you, suckers…" the bastard called them back as Amanda crept on her knees at the edge of the vehicle. Her eyes caught Rick as he held Daryl back, his eyes drawing towards hers, too, and they stared at each other as the jeep drove them away.

When they got disappeared behind the curve of the hill, Amanda slumped back on the jeep, tears already rising in her. There—she…she'd lost him.

It wasn't the end, she told herself, he was going to get her back, she trusted him, but still it hurt—being away. With these people, she had no idea how things were going to be like. Negan seemed to like he was humoring her, but how long? She wasn't in any delusional that he wouldn't hurt her or her babies. He would just do it to teach her a lesson or worse to teach Rick a lesson, like tonight. She was just a bargaining chip in his hands—and Beth—her truest friend had walked into this trap within her own feet.

Goddammit!

Her head snapped at her friend, "Take me instead," she hissed at the younger woman, "What was that, Beth?" she went on angrily, "What were you thinking?!"

Beth shook her head, resting her head against the jeep's metal cage. It seemed like military issue, too, it had a dark green canvas too, without any camouflage, and Amanda wasn't surprised of it anymore.

Beth shook her head in answer, "I couldn't let them take Maggie—" she said back, "She—what happened tonight…" she paused, "she's my sister, and lost her husband, Amanda. She had to stay."

Amanda shook her head back at her. She knew Beth's reasons, she of course knew, but the dangers… "She wouldn't have done the same for you, you know it," she only said.

Her face sobered, "I'm not Maggie."

She let out a loaded sigh, "I know. You're good that way, almost perfect…" she said, sighing again, running her eyes around the jeep, swinging back and forth as they drove through the down-trotted paths, motors drumming in her ears, "It's just—" she said, "You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous."

"I'm a big girl," Beth countered back, "I can take care of myself."

Her eyes held Beth's doelike blue eyes, "Do you?" she asked, leaning down a bit, and raised her bonded hands at her eyes, "Look at me, Beth. I was chained in the room… tied and chained like an animal. This isn't going to be a picnic." Her eyes grew sterner as her voice, "Perhaps tonight we'll get raped or tortured…" she stopped, shaking her head.

"I survived Grady," Beth reminded her, "I survived through all of them."

For that, Amanda had nothing to say. "I—I just don't want you to live through that again—" she finally said.

Beth gave her a heavy look, "Neither I do _you_, Amanda," she said back, "You're pregnant."

Amanda gulped, and stayed in silence for a while, thoughts turning in their minds, but both of them too frightened to say them out loud. But there was something else too, Amanda, gradually started feeling too, and she hated it—she hated even to admit it—but it was there—staring at Beth, knowing that she was there with her…She imagined herself sitting in the jeep alone, she…she would've been relieved, relieved that her friend was safe and protected, as much as anyone could be safe and protected in these days, but there was another part of her…feeling relieved that as she sat down, looking at Beth, a part that felt…glad that she wasn't…alone, that she had someone with her.

She hated it, she really did, once again started feeling she was the most selfish, self-centered bitch had ever walked in the earth—but it was still there. "Beth—" she called out at her then, "I—I hate you being here with me now in this shit, I really do—but—but thank you—" she gulped down, "thank you for not leaving me alone."

In answer, Beth smiled at her, and they fell into another silence as the jeep drove them away toward to another uncertainty. "Amanda—" Beth called out at her this time, "Do you—do you think they'll try something?" she asked, "You know…forcing us—like Gorman did."

She shrugged, "I don't know." She really didn't. Negan didn't seem like the type, but that didn't mean he wouldn't turn a blind eye like Dawn used to do. "I don't know," she repeated, "This—all of this seems to me a bit too extreme, just to teach us a point." Her brows knitted as she thought more of it. It still didn't make much of sense. She had thought he'd gotten sort of obsessed with Rick, like the Governor had used to, but Amanda had her doubts now. "Dawn used to do it all the time," she continued, "trying to show off us her power more as she started losing it worse—" She shook her head, "Simon demolished Hilltop without Negan's knowledge. When he came at the mansion, he was surprised. So I don't know how much authority he truly got over his own people." She let out another sigh, and her eyes found Beth's blue ones, "Either way, we gotta be prepared."

Beth frowned, "What do you mean?"

"This isn't Grady," Amanda told her then as plainly as she could manage, "These people—these people aren't like Dawn or Gorman. They're worse. You saw them. What you did with Gorman… I understand, but it was foolish, Beth. If Joan wasn't there, you could've been dead."

Beth shook her head, "You're not serious," she said.

Amanda held her eyes, and pressed on, there wasn't any…smoother way to say this, so she just did. They had to live… their lives… their lives couldn't end here. No. They were going to get back to people they were waiting for them. She was going to get back to Rick, to Carl and Judith, and Beth to Daryl…to their families… They weren't going to die here. She could do anything for that! "If there's no way else, Beth," Amanda told her friend, "If there's no way, you have to go with it. Close your eyes, and go away inside, and let them. Please." Her voice thinned with emotion, "_Don't_ let them kill you."

"No!" Beth opposed fiercely, "No! Never! I die before I let them touch me!"

Amanda let out a sigh. And that was what she was afraid of. In her silence, Beth shook her head. "Amanda, you can't—you can't mean that."

She smiled bitterly. "Back in my childhood, I—I spent a lot of time imagining how it would've felt being raped, Beth. What should I do? How it should go? Would it hurt? Should I fight back? Or let it go? Would they believe me? Or would they blame…me?" she said, "I was so afraid of it sometimes—" Her voice wavered, and she stopped to clear it again, "Sometimes I just wanted someone came and did it, so…so the other shoe would finally drop, and I'd have my answers. The shoe has never dropped." She laughed silently, a bitter cutting sound, "I was lucky. I never had to learn. But if tonight is the night my luck has finally run out, I'm ready to find out." As she talked, her wavering voice had gotten sterner, and she started burning with a fire, "I'll get back to home, Beth," she declared with determination, "To my husband, to my children. One way or another. There's nothing more important than that."

# # #

His blood ringing in his eardrums, Rick watched the jeep as it carried away his wife with Beth, his chest tightening—his hands fisting along his hips.

It was the only way, he told himself. He was going to get her back… both of them. They were going to get them back. Amanda—Amanda would keep herself and Beth were safe. They had to go back to home now—and think, find a way out. He was going to get her back…

Daryl was pacing back and forth as others just stood in silence, silent in their despair. Maggie was still crying beside Glenn, her head bowed, shoulders sagged. Glenn… they needed to get him back and bury him—give him the funeral he deserved. They needed to return. His eyes caught other bodies too, both Ezekiel and Jesus. They needed to give them a proper funeral as well.

Walking back to him, Daryl suddenly stood in front of him, "We—we need t'get there and take them out—" the hunter told him, waving his hand, "We gotta!"

Rick shook his head, "Daryl—" he said, softening his voice, "Daryl—we need to take Glenn back to home."

That stopped him, a hesitance entering into him, but a second later, he nodded, "Yeah, we need Dwight. We take him and get back to Sanctuary and get them out."

"Daryl, you saw what happened tonight," Rick said, "We can't endanger them like that."

"I ain't goin' t'leave her there!" the other man shouted.

His anger flared up, "My wife—my _pregnant_ wife is with them, too, Daryl! Do you really think I _want_ _to_ leave her there!" He closed his eyes momentarily, and let out a sharp breath, "We—need to be smart," he said, reopening his eyes, "Beth—Amanda, they need us to be smart. We need to play along. We show the bastard what he wants to see—then strike and get them back." Daryl looked at him in silence. Rick took a step closer, and held his neck, bowing his head to find the other man's eyes, "Brother, he needs them. He wouldn't hurt them. They're his protection. He took another hostage for that—to get a better protection. Amanda and Beth are smart. They will hold on."

His words hit a chord in Daryl, Rick knew, and he feverishly hoped he was doing the right thing. It was the way Negan operated—bringing people into submission with fear and threats. It was an old, repeated strategy, as old as human history. He couldn't hurt his hostages as long as he believed they were—behaving themselves.

Daryl still gave him a look though, "What if—what if—they—" the man's rough voice faltered, couldn't finish it, but Rick understood…

A cold shiver passed through his spine… He couldn't hurt them, in his mind repeated, but…couldn't kill them—but…the world turned around him—scenarios—scenarios they couldn't even speak out loud rapidly flashing in his mind—and he pressed them down. No.

They were going to be okay. Amanda—she would never let them… Amanda was a survivor—and she always survived… He sharply breathed out, his old fears finding him again—the way she forced herself to accept bad things and moved on—and Negan had _wives_… And they—both Amanda and Beth were attractive, young women—

His vision darkened and he almost dropped on his knees again—if he touched her—if he put a hand on her… "He's right," Maggie suddenly stood up, swaying on her legs, words pouring out of her through sobs, "We—we need to return—bury Glenn. Then—then we need to find a way to beat him."

Rick nodded, forcing the dark thoughts away… No. Amanda would protect herself and Beth. She would find a way. "Yes, then we get them back," Rick said, words sounding like an oath.

# # #

Rick returned to home that night alone, Daryl leaving after they returned to Alexandria, every of them in silence on the road after they'd buried Ezekiel and Jesus with Hilltop residences. Daryl vanished off in the night, and Rick let him, knowing that he wanted to be alone, and all in frankness, he wanted himself too, his temples throbbing with the headache nailing inside his head—his eyes hurting, sore and red. He walked in the house, bowing his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to quell down the voices in his mind—the dawn was near. They would bury Glenn in the morning, then…then they would sit down and think. Find a way.

They were going to get them back. He was going to get her back.

As he walked in the house, memories assaulted at him… she was making Judith walk toward herself, spinning her in the air after the baby had called her mommie—she was sitting at the kitchen's table, preparing them breakfast, them laying together at the couch after their last fight…

_We never sleep in the separate beds, Rick, okay?_ she asked in his mind, and the memory brought him on his knees at the staircase, holding the railings, and he finally let it go and started crying.

"Dad?" Carl called at him softly after a while, Rick just didn't know—he was just folded against steps, his fist in his mouth to muffle his cries…but Carl had heard him… He looked around, his eyes searching, then realized he was alone. "Where's Amanda?" his son asked, his voice scratching, his eyes still looking— "Dad—" Panic raised in his voice, Rick then noticed through his throbbing mind and pricking hurting eyes, "Dad—where's she?"

"She—" Rick forced out and swallowed the rest of the words… Carl—Carl had grown closer to Amanda. From any outsider, they still must look like distant, but Rick knew his son. Amanda had worked her way through Carl's introverted personality, the way she'd found her way through the chinks in his armor. "She—" Rick tried again, but no words followed.

"Is she—is she dead?"

Rick shook his head, "No—No. They—Negan…they took her." Carl stared at him, "I'm sorry, son."

He shook his head, his eyes tearing, "You failed _again_," he hissed, "You can't protect anyone. We should never trust you again!"

Then he turned and ran to his room back.


	16. Chapter 16

XVI.

"Welcome to your new home!" the sick bastard exclaimed, raising his empty hand in the air to indicate the towering building that covered the landscape behind him over the horizon , a huge, metallic dark grey bulk against the dark sky. Yet what twisted her insides wasn't the monstrous building itself but what lay just outside its fences.

She'd known of walkers chained outside the fence, of course, she'd heard it from Rick after he'd made a recon with Daryl months ago when Dwight and Cherry had come first—her thoughts stopped, realizing Negan would never find out about them. If he'd learned they had two of their old residents, Dwight and Cherry would've ended up back here and possibly punished as well.

She was going to need to spin a story how they'd discovered about them. From one of the other vehicles, her eyes picked up the doctor, and her old furry found her again… It was his fault! All of this…all of this was his fault. He'd possibly done it for his brother, but he should've come to them. They would've dealt with it, they would've found a way. They weren't going to kill all Saviors inside the building. But it was too late now.

They were here, and there was no point in stressing over the spilled milk.

Her eyes drew back at the dark grey intimidating building and she swallowed, what she'd talked with Beth on the road coming at her again—the possibilities…she'd said she was ready—but—was she—was she really ready? When her-Rick's babies inside her? Even the thought of it almost made her vomit again...her resolves shaking.

She wished to be back at her home where she belonged… with Rick, and with Carl and Judith. Her babies didn't belong here. She didn't belong here. She was tired of this… trying to survive. She was so damn tired of it. She just wanted to be Amanda Grimes, and live with her family. She shook her head mentally. No. She should stop whining now. She couldn't lower her guard. This was where she was now and if she wanted to get back where she belonged, she couldn't do it whining, crying, bemoaning. Her eyes skipped at Beth, and Amanda looked at her friend. She was going to get them out of here. She didn't know how yet, but she was going to find a way.

Beth—Beth—she wasn't like her, Amanda always knew. She could do anything to get back to home, but Beth couldn't. She simply couldn't, so Amanda had to protect her too. Beth was the little sister that she'd never had. She couldn't let these people hurt her in a way, she simply couldn't. She had to find a way.

She needed to compartmentalize herself, divide herself in two halves—the part who just wanted to be Amanda Grimes, the woman who just wanted to make cookies, take care of her baby, play with Carl, and be with Rick…just be with him, but unfortunately it'd do her no good right now. She needed the other her, the cunning, devious sharp part of her—the part that was good with politics, the woman who had a knack for manipulations and schemes. She wanted to be Amanda Grimes a mix of both, a wife, a mother, and…a leader too, just like Rick, she fully understood it now, but here in the Sanctuary, she was going to need that sly bitch more than any time. She was going to get back to her family, get back her babies to safety. Nothing was more important than that. Nothing.

Negan's men came from the front side of the jeep and started lowering the metal lid of the metal cage at the backside, and grabbing their arms, they pulled them down.

Amanda leaped too as they pulled down, and swayed at her feet, her eyes still fixated at the metallic building. It was a war she was going into, and she was going to win. She swore to herself.

First, though, they needed some protection, and getting protection in situations like these was quite simple. Make yourself useful. She was already useful to Negan as a hostage, but being a pretty bargaining chip wasn't working with her. She needed something else.

As they moved them inside the gates, her stomach twisted—the scenes—the smells, all of it turning it upside down, bile rising in her throat. She halted on her steps, and before she could stop herself, she started throwing up, bending down.

_Way to go to start her battle plans…_ Beth held her across her back, catching her hair over her shoulders, "Please, someone give her water—" she called out above her as Amanda continued emptying her already empty stomach, feeling the stares on her back.

She was fucking hating it!

She straightened back after she was finished, her head spinning, and ran the back of her tied hands across her forehead to wipe off her sweat. Then slowly, Negan walked to her, a bottle of water in his free hand. The other was still holding his damn bat, and the sight of it almost made her hurl up again. She raised her hands up a little when he stopped in front of them, asking for water. But he didn't give it to her.

Instead he handed his bat to one of his lieutenants, took out his knife from his back and catching her tied hands, he started cutting her bounds over her wrists. "You good, doll?" he asked her, letting go her hands, and briskly she nodded, taking the bottle from his other hand.

He nodded back, switching a look at both of them, "Let's get you inside, sweat pies."

She almost rolled her eyes, drinking from the bottle, and closed it after she was done. "We have names, you know."

His lips cracked up into a little smile, "I know—"

Amanda didn't say anything else. She wondered where they were taking them as they started walking in the compound, separate cells, or rooms, or—something else…? Cherry had said there was a strict hierarchy inside—workers, clerks, soldiers, and his lieutenants, and there were also prisoners—many prisoners—some of them also ending up at the fences. _Even in death, you serve Negan,_ the woman had said.

Amanda forced the words away from her mind. The building used to be a factory, a massive factory possibly for a heavy industry branch. There were much equipment around, manual and automatic, and they had electric as well, interiors were dimly lighted, but there was energy. They had generators and fuel tanks, the ones like Dwight and Cherry had tried to find out…and she saw military equipment and gears, too, with guns… though, she was really not surprised of it anymore.

And they had people! Everywhere there were people. She could understand now better why Dwight had thought Daryl had been with them when they had met in the woods. The sanctuary was _crowded_. Hell, she had never seen this much of people together in one place after the turn.

There was a constant buzz in the heights of the tall spacious cavern-like hall—the first floor, and she could see they had five other tiers as well. The sounds of the crowd were a mix of industry and agriculture as well—the hall had divided into spaces—each for different purpose. At the first look she saw a woman making dough as across from her, at another corner, a soldier was cleaning guns. Outside the yard, there were gardens…all green and dirt. As they walked, despair was slowly rising out of her, she could almost feel a bleak blackness reaching at her—so many people, so many posts…

She shook her head. She couldn't give in. They could not. They needed to get back. To their families. Where they belonged.

Beside her, a tremble passed through Beth too, Amanda touched at her hand in the way Rick did to her—her fingertips gently brushing over hers, making the younger woman know she was here. They were together in this.

Leaving the living quarters, they entered into a long narrow corridor, lined up with doors at sides, walls dark beige and grey. And each door had a padlock outside. Well, her question where they would sleep had been answered.

They stopped in front of a grey metallic door, and Negan opened the door, two of his men standing at guard behind him. "You first, blondie—" He nodded at Beth, and then Amanda knew. They were being separated. Beth walked in the room, glancing at her before she did, and Amanda felt her chest seizing as they locked her in, the sound of the key reverberating in her insides.

They then brought her to the cell next to it. At least, they were closer to each other, she thought trying to look on the full-side of the glass. She knew where Beth was, and it was better than alternative. She stepped into small, grey room, and before they locked the door on her, too, she turned around, and asked bluntly, "Can we talk for a minute?" Her eyes darted at his company, that taciturn woman and another man she hadn't caught his name, "Alone."

Negan arched an eyebrow, "You want to talk with me in _private_?" and almost cooed suggestively.

Amanda forced her lips into a thin line, and raised her hands, "You can tie me again if you're afraid I'd attack."

The sick bastard let out a bark of laughter, throwing his head back, "You got a bold sense of humor…" then lifting his head up, his eyes found hers, "I like that in a woman."

Amanda blankly stared at him, nausea hitting at her again. He was disgusting… just disgusting. His laughter suddenly stopping, he motioned at Arat with his head, "Tie her."

_For god's sake…_she exclaimed inside as the other woman walked to her hastily and grabbed her hands. When she was done, Negan titled his head again, "Leave us alone."

Then he turned at her and waited. In the room—in the _cell_, there was only a bed with a thin mattress, and she couldn't even see a toilet. She guessed it used to be a dormitory for the factory's workers, but then turned into a cell under Negan's regime… her eyes caught a metallic glint at a corner across the bed, and her eyes skipping at it, she saw a metallic pot.

Her chest tightened again.

They—they needed to get out of here. They needed to. She sat on the bed, resting her tied hands over her lap and lifted her head to look at him. "You said if we please you, you reward us—" she said directly, barging on, "You let Rick say goodbye to me because he knelt. Tell me how we could do that?"

The man snickered, "Well, you could always be my wife but I'm…a bit scared if you'd try to slit my throat in sleep." She gave an incredulous look at him. "I heard what you told Gregory," he explained further in her silence.

She shook her head, "I never plot a leader's demise before I make sure who's coming next," she assured him, wondering if he'd caught the hidden meaning of her words. One of the main reasons she'd abided Dawn that long was because if the woman had stepped down, Gorman would've come in her place. After Beth had managed to kill Dawn with Joan things had changed. But even then they still had needed to deal with O'Donnell first. No. You couldn't just go and murder a leader before making sure of ripple effects. Sometimes the power vacuum left behind after the leader's death would self-destroy the community like a black hole, but sometimes it'd just turn worse.

The man gave her a long look, and remarked, "Why do you want to be rewarded?"

"I want your protection—" she said simply, "I want to be sure no one would try something tonight."

"Do you think some might?"

She shrugged, "It's a big place, a big, crowded place." Then her eyes found his, and taking the risk, she pressed further, "You can't know what everyone's up to…"

"You missed the memo, didn't you?" the man bit back, his eyes turning sterner, "I _am_ at everywhere."

"Forgive my confusion… You see, I was drugged, but I happen to remember you being surprised to see Hilltop destructed." She stared at him, then decided to cut the bullshit, hoping to god she wouldn't get—punished… "I know what was really about tonight, Negan. I'm not blind. The lesson you wanted to teach isn't only for us." She paused, waiting for him to say something, but he didn't, so she went on, she couldn't stop now—she had tossed the dice… "It was also for your own people—to remind them what happens if they disappoint you, too."

In silence, leaning against his bat at the ground, the psychopath was looking at her, openly and questioning, so Amanda offered, "I can help you."

"How?" he asked.

"Rick—Rick managed to rally people against you in a matter of few days. He lost today, but soon the talks will start. And I'm his wife—his _pregnant_ wife. Imagine how it'd look like if I start working for you. Willingly," she added the last part, and she saw in his eyes he was mulling the idea—and one of those sick smiles slowly appeared over his lips.

"Wow! You're some cold-hearted bitch!" the man cried out, amused, "Imagine how your poor hubby would feel like seeing you beside me."

The words struck her worse than any slap would've, but Amanda didn't let her guard down. No. Rick was going to deal with it, just as she was going to need to. She couldn't sit in this rattrap under locks, being a pretty bargaining chip, all the while wondering if they would be raped, or tortured, or something else… All of her childhood had exactly passed like that, and prepared or not, Amanda wasn't looking forward to returning to those days. The only thing she knew for sure was that they wouldn't kill them—wouldn't let go their leverage like that, but for everything else was a wild bet.

And there was Beth, too. She had to protect Beth.

"He'll learn to live it," so she said, almost truthfully. They both were going to learn to live it. Even looking at the sick bastard was making her stomach heave, but she was going to do what she must. She looked at him, and gave him a small smirk, "He's adaptable."

Negan laughed at her remark, "So you are."

And yes, she was. Adaptation had been always one of her best skills. "A couple of months ago, Rick was telling me about this guy," she continued, "The first real tyrant in the history of mankind…" she said, her eyes on his, "He ended up getting stabbed at his back twenty-three times…His last words were…_Et tu, Brute?_ You must've heard the story. It's a pretty famous one."

And yes, he had, too. She wondered for a second if she was pushing too much, but well, she was already miles away from her safe zone, and sometimes even though she fucking hated it, you just had to take the risk. If he wanted to keep this up, she could do it whole night. She hadn't even started yet how Dawn had killed her own superior to take the command, or how they'd killed Dawn to take back the command… "Your people are slipping away," she said instead, and repeated, "I can help you with that."

"How?" the man asked again.

"I'm very good at politics," she answered, "I can dig out your little…nuisances."

"What do you want in return?"

"Like I said—" she countered fast, "Your protection. The real thing. You'll make sure we—_both_ of us are not to be touched by anyone. And I want to be treated like a _guest_—not like a damn prisoner." She raised her hands, showing him her bounds, "And—" she finished for the last, "I want fifteen minutes alone with Rick when you go to Alexandria. No guards, no chaperones, only _us_. Fifteen minutes."

She had to take those minutes. She had to explain Rick herself. She might be a bitch, but she wasn't a cold-hearted one. Rick was going to learn to live with it, yes, but he wasn't going to learn it from Negan or someone else. Amanda would never do it to him.

There were also her vitamins and folic acid she needed to get for her babies, but she was going to deal with them later. She couldn't take everything at one-go. She had to prioritize and getting out of this rathole and seeing Rick alone were her first priority.

"Five," Negan started bargaining.

"Ten," she said back quickly. She had never believed he would've given them a quarter anyway. She could've counted herself lucky if she managed to get ten minutes. But Negan shook his head again and pointed his bat at her.

"Five."

"Eight."

"Five minutes."

She let out a big breath, "Fine," she bit off, "Five minutes."

"All right, then, doll—you got yourself a new job—" he cried out, and laughed, "Today is really the career day."

She stood up as he walked towards her, and taking his knife, he cut her bounds again. "First thing. We're going to move you up to my apartments with my wives."

She snapped her eyes at him, and her lips clenched, "I said we're not to be touched by _anyone_," she snarled. If he thought she was going to sleep with him—

But with another amused laughter, the man laughed at her, "Doll, I've never needed to force myself onto anyone. You see, women get in line to _please_ me."

She barely held a snort inside her. Wives… She'd heard about them from Cherry, women being coerced or exploited…like how _she'd_ exploited Joan… She shook her head mentally. She shouldn't get into that right now. Her objective was simple. Get back to home—where she belonged…with her family.

"My apartments are the safest place here. So, you could be safe and treated like guests," he explained, "Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked.

Not really. If they slept together with her wives, everyone was also going to assume that he was going to sleep with them as well, and she didn't want that, either—goddammit! She already started hating it!

She gave herself another mental shake—no. She was going to do whatever she must. Being his hostage also meant being inside, and if she was really _inside_… inside his inner circle, then she would get better advantage too. She had to play smart. Her babies were growing inside her. She _had to_ keep them safe and couldn't do it in this rathole. She shouldn't even be here as they grew inside her… She should be with Rick, feel their first kicks together, in their own bed—laying together in each other's arms as they tried to feel it…feel them inside her moving…Rick talking to their babies like he'd done the day they'd found she was pregnant.

Tears almost rose out of her again, but the sudden vision straightened her resolves further. She was going to get back. She could do everything for that.

# # #

In the dimly lighted room, Beth was trembling with silent tears.

Lying down on the mattress, she thought herself she'd done the right thing—Maggie—she couldn't have let them take her—not after what had happened to her, she knew what her husband had meant for her sister, knew it better than anyone. Seeing her there, at Glenn's beaten body had vanished off all of her old bitter feelings. No. Maggie had to be with her family's caring arms, had to be taken cared of.

She hated being here—fear was almost sticky in her mouth, but as she thought Maggie being there in her stead, Beth knew she'd done the right thing. If their position was reserved, if it'd been Daryl—

She stopped the thought—couldn't even manage to complete it.

Her tears fastened worse… Amanda was right. They had to be prepared. She hated to think her friend—her _pregnant_ friend in this position as well, and if she could've helped it, she would've made her back at home too. This…cell was no place for a pregnant woman with twins. But she couldn't help it.

She couldn't even know how they would protect themselves.

And all of this had started reminding her of Grady.

She shook her head with resolution. She—she had escaped Grady. She _could_ do it again. Amanda had said these people were worse, and they were, but they could do it together. Amanda couldn't sit down and wait something bad simply happen to them.

Beth knew the woman better than that. Despite of her bleak, matter of facts words, Beth knew the prospect still frightened her. Amanda always put a brave façade, but in deep down she got a soft heart. It was wrong. They couldn't let it happen. She imagined Gorman's hands over her body—the nausea she had felt having his sweaty palms across her skin, and the fear, the stark, naked fear…

Amanda's words had disturbed her greatly. She wondered if that was how the older woman's childhood had really passed—waiting something bad happen to you, listening to footsteps outside. Beth trembled again—her shivers running down along her spine.

She'd done the right thing, she told herself again,

Then outside of her door, she heard footsteps.

Her body tensed, her heart galloping at her throat—her cries suddenly stopping, and she wished to have her scissor, wanted to feel the cold touch of the metal. They'd found it on her sleeve where she always kept hidden—her own secret protection and taken it away. She felt almost naked without it.

Her eyes wandered around to see what she could use for a weapon, like she had done before but there was nothing in the cell, nothing at all. She closed her eyes, praying silently—without any word—she still had no words left to her, but only one, please let us be safe…

_Please let us be safe—_

And the door opened as her eyes did and at the doorsteps she saw—Amanda.

She let a ragged breath out, her body almost slumping back to the bed—but she saw then two other men flanking her at both sides and that woman—Arat standing a few feet beside them.

The woman took a step forth at the threshold, and motioned at her, "Come."

Amanda gave her a little tilt of her head, as if to assure it was okay, and Beth slowly stood up and went to them.

Then they started walking to the exit door of the corridor. "Where are we going?"

"I'll explain later—" Amanda said shortly, walking briskly next to her as they both flanked with two men.

Beth then shut her mouth and followed. Something was happening, and Amanda was going with it, she figured out she would follow, as well. In any case, she wouldn't leave her friend here alone.

But where they were going to she had no idea. They started climbing a metal staircase, metallic grey and dark beige like everything else in the compound. Then suddenly the whole scene changed. The grey and dark beige changed into white, and metal door turned to wooden. They made them stop in front of a double wing maroon door and Arat pulling it back, opened it for them.

And Beth stared… It was a spacious living room, full of grand imperial furniture, dark burgundy heavy curtains hanging over the colored glasses was the only indication they were still inside the old factory building. Aside that, it was a whole another world.

Women—there were a lot of women lounging—over the comfy couches, sofas, parlor sets all around the room, all clad with little black dresses, their hair clean and done, faces adorning make-up. All furniture was clean and tidied, she saw flowers and plants. There was even a piano at the corner.

Beth then realized where she was—recalling Cherry's words. They were Negan's—harem. Another fright took her—what they were doing here—why they had brought them here? Instead of this place, Beth preferred to be in that cell. Her eyes skipped to Amanda as the older woman stood rigidly beside her, then catching her gaze, her fingers gently brushed over her fingertips again.

Beth understood the gesture, she'd seen Rick doing it to her a lot of time—even back at the road before they'd arrived to Alexandria—a sort of camaraderie, making the other sure they were here. But Beth didn't want to be here, she didn't want Amanda to be here, either…

"Move." Arat then told hem, motioning inside.

Her head high, Amanda walked in, and darting her eyes at the women, Beth once again followed.

The women were…uninterested, not looking at them, each lost in their own worlds, chatting in small clusters, or reading or drinking. And the distinction between them couldn't be higher than that moment as they walked through them, without making any eye contact, their clothes dirty and bloodied, and instead of high heels, their feet adorned with tactical and cowboy boots.

They brought them another corridor behind the parlor, and Arat opened another wooden door toward to the end of it. Without a word, they both walked in.

The door then was closed behind them, but Beth didn't hear any lock. Her eyes skipped at the door and she saw the mechanism—and Amanda reached out quickly too, and locked themselves in.

Then she let out a deep breath, resting her back against the door, her eyes closing. "Amanda—what—what's happening?" Beth questioned.

She opened her eyes, "Got us out of those rattraps."

Beth squinted at her, "How?"

She huffed deeply and walked to bed. There was one bed—one twin bed in the room, and a few furniture, two nightstands at each side of the bed, and two chairs, and one tall mirror at the corner. There was no window inside, but there was a vanity table beside the mirror and a TV set with a player.

Amanda walked to the imperial chair and sat down it. "I—I made a deal with Negan," she answered, "I—I'll work for him, and in return he'll protect us."

Beth stared—words turning in her head, "Amanda—" she finally said back, "Are you serious?"

"We needed to get out there, Beth—" Amanda told her back, shaking her head, "Those cells—they weren't safe. And—well, did you see the chamber pots?" She shook her head again, "We needed to get out of there. We need to get out of _here_," she corrected herself, "And we can't do it in a cell, locked."

"But—we—wives-I can't be his wife!" she exclaimed out, "_Never_!"

Amanda's green eyes lit with a sudden fire as she stood up, "Do you think I would?" she snarled, "Do you think I'd whore myself like that?" she asked snappish, "Betray Rick like that?"

Before she answered, Beth faltered, and Amanda saw her hesitation. Her lips thinned as her jaw set, and she stared at Beth in silence. The truth was that sometimes Beth just couldn't be sure of Amanda's capacity of…taking things as they were—her level of pragmaticism, and the way she had talked in the jeep—and Joan… Amanda could be very matter of fact, and adaptable when she wanted but could she really do that—could she be that…adaptable? Beth remembered then her with Rick—the way she looked at him, and how much she wanted his baby, and how much she almost had sacrificed—and how much regret she had for Joan even though she had never said a word aloud, and Beth knew it. No. Amanda would never do it. She would never do it to Rick.

She shook her head, "I'm sorry. I—I know you would never."

Amanda's face loosened, and she nodded, "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have snapped at you." She paused, and letting out a breath, and sat down at the bed's edge this time, "I feel a bit at the edge." She paused again, "Honestly, it feels like…as if I—I'm _betraying_ Rick," she confessed, and added with a small voice, "He won't like it."

Beth narrowed her eyes again, "Amanda, what happened? Why we're here?" she asked, walking to her, "What work are you going to do for him?"

"Negan's got problems with his own people. He didn't know Hilltop was destroyed. I realized it before. I think Simon—his second command has got other ideas. I—mess up with him, told him I'm gonna find his…nuisances. In return, I wanted his protection, and asked not to be touched by anyone and be treated as guests. Hence, our current predicament—" she waved her hand around the room.

"Hmm—" Beth said, sensing she was missing out something, "and why do you exactly think you're betraying Rick?"

She heaved out deeply. "Well—I told Negan how it'd be like having me working for him… I'm Rick's wife, and I'll wander around Negan like a lapdog." Her face setting further, she bitterly snickered, "Rick will hate it—I'll hate it."

"Amanda—" Beth started, but standing up, Amanda cut her off.

"No, Beth. We have to do it, and they have to suck it up. We couldn't stay there… I need to protect my babies. It was too dangerous. And you couldn't stay there, either, and I can't lose you like that—" she stopped for a second again, her eyes found hers, "You—you're like the little sister I've never had, Beth. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Her chest swelled with her emotional confession, Beth walked to her friend, "Amanda, you're like a sister to me, too—" she told the older woman, her sister not by blood, but by choice, "But I don't want you to danger yourselves because of me."

Amanda shook her head, "I do it for us, Beth, for all of us. This can be our chance, too. We're hostages, but we're also in." She waved her hands in the air, indicating around, "Look at us. We're really _in_. If we learn about Negan's secrets, his outposts, his arsenal, his men—we could do it. This _still_ might be a blessing."

Beth shook her head, "Amanda, it's dangerous. Please—"

"I don't want to bring my babies in a world where people like Negan take advantages the weak, Beth. I don't want Carl and Judith live in such a world. I don't want us, you and your children, and the people we care live under his thumb—" the older woman said, shaking his head, "We can stop it. We should do something!"

_We should do something!_ Beth recalled her own thoughts, so long ago in the woods, screaming at Daryl— and she felt the same fierceness coursing through her again, the same…courage. Yes, they should do something, because it still mattered.

Though, Beth wasn't sure what they would do. "Amanda—I—I want to do something, too. That—that bastard killed Glenn. I want revenge, I want justice, but how? What would we do?"

"For starters, we just observe and watch." Standing up, Amanda walked to her, "We mingle around and keep track of people. Make friends. Just do what you did at Grady, Beth." The older woman gave her a little smile, "Just be your usual awesome self," she continued, "I'll deal with the rest. Then we find a way and get the hell out of here."

Beth reflected her smile back, but a second later, she returned her eyes at the former police officer. "Amanda—if we do this, we need to talk with Rick and Daryl," she said, "They—they need to know it. If they see us with him, they'd get the wrong idea." And they might, and—suddenly Beth understood better why Amanda had felt like she was betraying Rick. No. No… She wouldn't like Daryl seeing her like that. Never.

And in answer, Amanda nodded. "I know. I bargained with him," she said, "and managed to get five minutes alone with Rick." She should've known. Amanda would've never let Rick suffer through that, _never_. "I'll explain it to Rick when Negan goes to Alexandria the next week. I'm going with him." She paused again, her eyes seemed thoughtful as if she discovered a new corner in her plans, "The next week—" she then repeated slowly, "Do you think—they'd wait until the next week?"

Beth gave the other woman a look, "Wait for what?"

Amanda shrugged, "Rick said he was going to get me back before we left. He…sounded quite determined. And Daryl…well, I'm not sure if Daryl would take what happened tonight well. Even though Rick might—want to think it thoroughly, Daryl wouldn't." She shook her head, "We need to get Negan to Alexandria, and talk to them before they do something stupid, Beth."

* * *

_Wow, after a while, I wrote another Beth POV...feels nice. I really wanted to have Amanda and Beth be in the Sanctuary, and be an awesome duo, having fears of being prisoners but also dealing with it. I've missed them being together, and making them sharing together is always nice. And I always like rattle the cage a bit. Especially when Rick sees what Amanda is doing :)_

_And stay safe, and stay at home if you can. Hope to see you after FIVE(5) reviews. :)_


	17. Chapter 17

**Very Important Author Note:**

**Sorry, guys, not a new chapter, just wanted to make an announcement after the last and unfortunately the only review I received for the last chapter. (Tried to update the last chapter as a new one, but it didn't work, so I'm making another separate post-and somehow this just didn't show up in the main page either... This is the third time I'm trying... Goodness, I just couldn't make the damn thing, sorry...)**

**Anyways. What I wanted to say is;**

**A Better World IS a Rick Grimes story, Rick is the main lead. If a reader doesn't enjoy Rick as a character, I'm not sure if it's the right story to follow. I'm still open to any reader, I don't mind it, but I just don't think it's the right story.**

**What I do mind is though, not hearing anything *else* from you all other readers. Like I said many times before, I don't regularly update but put up many chapters, sometimes even the whole story at one-go, but I regularly update this story because I want to share it with you whilst I'm writing *because* I want to hear your thoughts. Good, bad, don't matter. I'm open to all. But this way-this silence isn't really working with me.**

**So, I've decided to find a new update schedule. I will update a new chapter only after I got FIVE(5) reviews for the chapter I posted. Or I'm returning to my former schedule, will upload all new chapters at one-go after I finished the story. This's mainly not to stress myself further, and enjoy my writing experience as much as I can.**

**So please, if you want to see regular updates, do not hesitate to share your thoughts with me!**

**Thanks. Still love you bunches...**


	18. Chapter 18

_Guys, thank you so much for the support and feedback! I really appreciate it, as I really want to upload the story as I write, too. I just don't want to stress myself further with the silence, as I'm already stressed out-a lot. I'm at home like ten days-worried and bored out of my mind-our factory got closed this week too, so I'm kind stranded without nothing to do, except write or chat on Whatsapp and Instagram, or watching news, like everyone else, and totally losing it-washing my hands like every half of an hour... Really, this virus would make every each of us suffering anxiety attacks._

_Because of boredom I also put up some ramblings about my writing and stories at my profile page... check it out if you're curious, or bored like me, too :)_

_Anyways, further ado, enjoy. Still love you bunches._

XVII.

At the dawn, Rick started digging Glenn's grave.

This time there were no memorials, no speeches, no memoirs. In silence, they buried his friend, each in their own misery. The air was cold and dry, a chill in the morning, frosty smoky long fingers of the pale mist slowly wandering around them, seeping through their clothes into their skins. Maggie's cries had ceased as she stood rigidly over her husband grave, her eyes as pale as the mist as they bury his oldest friend since the turn.

Carl was with them too, his face set in with his grimace, eyes scowling under his old Sheriff hat, staring ahead as he pretended Rick didn't exist at all. Leaving the house after he'd gone to his room screaming at him, Carl hadn't come back again, possibly spent the night with Enid as Rick had crushed at the couch in the hall.

He couldn't even have gone to their room—see their bed—Amanda laying with him—making love, sleeping, hugging, kissing, bickering, laughing, him tickling her as she cried out screaming with laughter… No. He just couldn't have lay there without her even though the sleep was no option.

He'd passed the night slumped back at the couch, her voice asking him never to sleep in separate beds turning in his mind—worry and fear eating his insides—imaging her there… Carl's accusing words echoing in him… _You failed again… You can't protect anyone._

And he hadn't. He couldn't have protected his wife, left her there with those sick bastards… His thoughts had turned so bleak with each possibility, he couldn't have even stomached being inside the house, so he'd gone out and sat on the porch' steps, wishing for another cigarette. But Daryl was nowhere to be seen. Rick had wondered where his friend was—knowing the same fears and dreads were turning in the hunter's mind as well. Daryl had never showed up, and a few minutes later Carl left the house too, banging the door on his back, his eyes trained ahead, not giving even a look at Rick as he sat down at the steps in silence.

Then Rick spent the rest of the night then there, alone, sitting at the porch—trying to quell down the voices in his head as his hands shook with trembles—his eyes hurting, prickling…_You can't protect anyone… We should never trust you again…_

Rick lifted his eyes and saw Daryl across him beside the grave. He'd come back at the dawn too, his face bearing the same grim expression of the last night. Father Gabriel had started reciting passages, but Rick wasn't listening. His eyes moved toward the former Sanctuary's residents, his mind steeling.

No. He was going to get her back. Last night—last night they'd been betrayed, caught unawares, but it wasn't going to repeat again. Never again.

He was never going to fail again.

Once the pastor finished, he walked to Dwight and Cherry. "Come with me—" he told them flatly, and without waiting their answer back, he turned and started walking back to the house. Daryl followed him quickly, and he picked up with the corner of his eyes that Carl did the same, too.

Maggie was following with Carol, as well, so was Abraham and Sasha and Rosita, as Michonne and Tyreese, his stump at the elbow still covered with bandages but the big man was back on his feet a month ago. He saw Tobin, Spencer, and the pastor padding after them as the rest of the council. Aaron, Eric, and Maggie's friend Claire came behind them as they'd all witnessed what happened last night, so Heath and Scott, and Rick even saw Amanda's former ward, a young woman in her mid-twenties, following them hesitantly.

Rick stepped inside the house and waited for all of them as they all settled down in the hall. Then he turned to Spencer, "Do we need to call in another assembly?" Rick asked.

The last Monroe shook his head, "No—" he said, "Everyone knows."

Bad news spread fast… Daryl turned to Dwight, "Do you know a way we could use to get inside?" he directly questioned the former Savior, "A secret entrance or something?"

Spencer shot at Rick a glance, then turned to Daryl. "Wait a minute—are we talking about a rescue mission?"

Daryl fixed at the younger man a glare, "We can't leave 'em there."

The man shook his head, "Didn't you see what happened last night?" Monroe cried out, "He beat—beat one of us to death." Maggie flinched where she sat at the couch at the words, but other than that stayed expressionless, "He said—he said—"

"I know what he said—" Daryl snapped back, "I ain't gonna leave Beth there!"

"She offered herself!" the younger man exclaimed, and his eyes wandered around them to look for back up, "We need to think this thoroughly. We already fucked it up once!" He tossed another glance at Rick, "We should've never agreed on this!"

The words hit at him like a slap, but Rick forced himself not to react. He'd done what he had to. He'd never wanted to go to find Hilltop but Amanda—no, Amanda couldn't have waited—she had to learn—she had to know. After then, they'd done what they had to.

Sooner or later Negan would've found them, even though they'd never done anything but wait sitting om their asses, the bastard still would've found them. He'd thought—he'd believed they had gone to him before Negan had come for them—but a little snicker in his mind was whispering at him then perhaps that way it wouldn't have been Amanda who had been taken away—but someone else…

Rick stopped the thought.

But Daryl had already started walking toward Monroe after his last words, and Rick walked away from his own corner too, but the pastor spoke up from his left side before things got more heated.

"We—we shouldn't fight with each other—" The pastor announced firmly, and Rick started understanding this meeting was going to be harder than he'd thought. Perhaps not everyone had seen Glenn's body, they'd buried his friend with a white cloth, but _everyone_ had heard how he had died. His insides growled out again—the nameless beast snarling inside him—but he forced himself to calm down again.

They—they had to keep it together. The pastor was right. This—anger, fighting, blaming wouldn't do neither to Amanda nor Beth any good now.

The pastor turned to Rick then, "When you said he told he was going to come?"

"The next week—" Rick answered flatly.

"Can't we…ransom for them?" Tobin asked hesitantly.

Rick shook his head, "He took them as hostages. He wouldn't let them go. He knows we'd come again if he did."

"Maybe we could make…peace?" the older man offered this time.

"_Peace_—" Maggie bit off, her voice nothing but a seething hiss, "He doesn't want peace. He wants half of everything we have."

Carol cut in, "Maggie's right, Tobin," she said, "Men like him want everything." She paused for a second, "He thinks we lost now. We should play along," she continued, and startled Rick's head snapped up at the older woman, hearing his own thoughts from last night making him tense again.

They—they had to play along—they should wait for their time, wait the victory and vanity made Negan weak as they regrouped in the meanwhile. They'd just lost a fight, but the battle hadn't finished yet. The logical part of him knew it was the truth but if heeding those words after Amanda had been taken away been hard, after he'd spent the rest of the night fighting with voices inside in his mind all the while trying not think what monsters Amanda would've been fighting with—monsters in flesh and blood, it'd become practically impossible.

How could he sit here while they might…hurt her…He wanted to believe they couldn't hurt her—wanted to believe Amanda wouldn't let it happen, wanted to believe she'd find a way—she always did—but what if—what if—

It was killing him—thinking of her like this. And even if nothing had happened, to think that she was living through her fears again—even the mere thought of it…her childhood—how she used to lay in her bed, listening to footsteps outside—waiting something bad happen to her… In his own fears found him again, how he used to wonder if anyone had really stepped in—imagining a smaller Amanda laying in her bed—and his vision turned to her own Amanda—the woman he loved with all of his heart, bearing his children—and—and what if someone did… someone stepped in wherever it was they'd kept them during the night…

His sight blackened again, and Rick almost threw up. It was killing him, killing him like someone was cutting little pieces of him… with each part of him, he was losing a piece of her, too…with each part…

Mentally, he shook his head. She was still alive. It was what was mattered the most. She was alive. They couldn't kill her. And Rick was going to get her back, and whatever hurt she might have—he was going to wrap them up himself—each one, with his own hands. He was. He was going to get her back.

He was going to endure, then he was going to take her back. Amanda needed him to be strong now. If—if they—they barged in on heated emotions, wanting to save them—they might hurt them even more in the process.

"We have to regroup first—" he remarked then, walking in the middle of the room, "He'll come next week—" he went on, but Daryl cut him off—

"The next week!" the hunter yelled back, sprinting from his corner toward him, waving his arm, "We can't wait until the next week! _I_ can't wait until the next week!" Walking to him closer, he shouted, "They got Beth."

Rick gave him a sharp look. "So as Amanda or did you forget?" he snapped.

Rick knew it was hard to Daryl as much as it was to him. It wasn't even the first time. Daryl had watched the second time Beth had been taken away from him—no one in the world would understand him better than Rick but Daryl hadn't lived what Rick had lived—hadn't lost someone he loved the way Rick had… not like him. Rick couldn't endanger her like that. He just couldn't. He couldn't lose her… really, truly lose her. Not again. Never again.

After his outburst, Daryl calmed down a bit, "We can't just wait," he said, "We should do something."

"We're doing something—" Rick said back, "We're preparing. We're…readying—" he returned his gaze to the others as well, "We got one week until he comes here. Amanda made a list for the places she believed there should be communities. We start looking for them and try to find more guns, more people—make new alliances. Build a real army for ourselves."

Daryl gave him a look, "An army in a week—"

Rick paused, and grimaced, "It might take a little while," he finally said, accepting, "We—we need to play along."

Daryl shook his head, his voice rising again, "We need to get them outta there!"

His anger flared up, Rick screamed back too, "Goddammit how!" He walked on in Daryl, their chest inches apart, two wild animals giving each other snarls, "How we get them, Daryl!"

Another snarl at his lips, Daryl turned on his heels silently, and stormed off out of the house, his hand holding up his crossbow—and with a glare at Rick, Carl followed him out.

Breathing out in the middle of the room in the sudden silence, Rick closed his eyes for a second, then Spencer said with a cold voice, "This all happened because we fought at the first place. Maybe we just need to give him what he wants—"

His eyes shot open, "And expect him to leave us alone?" Rick bit back, turning to the other man, "It doesn't work like that!"

"It was exactly working like that!" Spencer shouted in return, standing up, "They left Kingdom and Hilltop alone taking what they needed until you came and stirred things, Rick." The other man gave him an open look, full of hatred, "Somehow wherever you go, death follows."

Rick really wanted not to do it, he really didn't but before he could understand what happened he found himself jumping at the man—his fist already crushing at the sonofabitch's jaw.

Hands grabbed him, trying to pull him, "You—" Rick growled out as Michonne screamed— "Rick!"

"You say it because it's your wife—!" Spencer screamed back as others got him back off Rick as well, "If it'd been anyone else you wouldn't do it. We're all in this shit because of her!"

Rick launched forward again, fighting off the hands that held him back- "Let go off me!" he yelled back, still fighting the hands— He was going to break his jaw—knock his teeth out—He was going to—

Breaking free, Rick attacked at the last Monroe.

# # #

Standing in their room, Amanda gave Beth a look, and pursed her lips down, "Black isn't really your color."

Beth let out a sigh, bowing her head to look at the dress she'd put on. It was a simple long-sleeved above knees black flared dress of cotton, combined with black Mary Jane shoes with two inches. Amanda supposed it was a sort of uniform for the women around here. Negan's wives—all of them wore black. In the morning the girls had brought two dresses and shoes from them, saying Negan had picked the dresses personally, and told them to suit up.

For a second or so, Amanda had thought to decline—told them they weren't going to pretty up like his damn wives—they weren't his wives—but on the second thought she'd decided to be a bit—meek. She couldn't fight every battle, and sometimes you just had to give away something before you started gaining some floor as well.

So, she'd taken the damn things, and nodded back.

Then it wasn't already enough, they'd given them an iron curler with a makeup kit. Taking the iron curler she'd heated, Amanda waved at Beth, looking at the iron in her hand. She shook her head, "I can't believe they waste current for these everyday—" she muttered.

Beth sighed in return as well, sitting in front of her, "At least black is your color," the younger woman snickered.

Amanda let out a small laugh. She was clad in another black dress too, long sleeved but not flared, fitting pencil skirted just above knees, and pumps with decent heels, but the distinction between the dresses got Amanda a bit worried. Her no-nonsense dress was for work, simple yet elegant, it was a thing she would've wore for standing in the front of the jury for a case but Beth's—Beth's dress, flared hems adorned with lace and ribbon was more suited for—_party_. She wondered if the choices had been made knowingly—Negan had chosen to dress her for work but Beth for _fun_ or was she over analyzing things again? She didn't know, but she didn't like it—especially recalling Negan's wives also were clad in cocktail dresses like for a party—goddammit!

She really hoped to hell she was over analyzing, her usual mother hen anxiety getting ahead of her. It just—she didn't know—she just didn't like it. If the bastard had given Beth a pencil skirt dress, too, Amanda would've felt a lot better.

They made each other hair, curling their locks, and fixed it with hair conditioner, burning their hands a couple of time in the meanwhile—and started putting up a little make up too—and suddenly Beth stopped as she dabbed some peachy blush over her cheekbones, and smiled at down at Amanda towering above her as Amanda sat in front of the vanity table on a pouf, "You know—it's started a bit like we're preparing for a girls night out—" she said, still smiling.

Amanda smiled, "Yeah…" she muttered out, but left unsaid she'd never done it before—never had any friend before to prepare for a girl night out, and then Beth said, too—

"Never done it myself, frankly—" She laughed, "I had a friend—Clara—we used to do it together in sleepovers, putting up make up, trying dresses, talking about how it'd be once we start college—live in the city…" She stopped, a lost expression over her face, remembering the old days, now forever lost, and smiled ruefully, "be some dumb college bitches…"

Amanda reflected her smile back, "I wish I could've been some dumb college bitch, too," she said as Beth continued to put on blush on her cheeks, "Life would be so much easier for dumb bitches."

Beth laughed out, "Yeah." Her hands faltered, "Have you ever gone to college?"

She shook her head, "No. Went directly Academia after the high school. Couldn't afford any college."

Beth nodded, and put down the brush on the vanity table, and ran her eyes away, "I always wanted to leave the farm, waiting for the day—feel the beat of the city—the life…" Her eyes found Amanda's, "I wanted to be a singer, you know."

Amanda looked at her back, "You've got a beautiful voice—" she said, remembering her singing for them in their wedding dinner. Deanne's house got a piano no one had used before until Beth had sat down in front of it, and played for them, and Rick had taken her in his arms and twirled her around taking her arm up in the air as she laughed at him—the hem of her white satin dress brushing over the floor—and Rick's eyes as Beth sung for them—

Her back straightened, Amanda pulled back from her good memory, her eyes still at Beth, "The piano—" she told Beth, "The parlor got a piano."

Beth nodded. "Yeah, I saw it."

Amanda stood up. "This's it. How you mingle with people here. Go and play something. People will gather around you even if you do nothing. You do have a beautiful voice,1 she repeated, "Then you start chatting with them. It'd loosen them up more if they'd take the first step, not you."

Understanding her point, Beth nodded back at her. It was always better if you made people approach to you than the alternative. "Go look around," she continued, "Try to find out who is who, what is what… If some of them are pregnant with his child or already has his baby, it'd be clear who's at the top."

Beth nodded. "What about you? What will you do?"

She let out a sigh. "Me?" she asked back, "I'm gonna find Negan," she said and started walking out, "Time to make myself useful."

# # #

As he slumped back against the couch alone, a headache nailing behind his eyes, Carol climbed down the staircase, holding Judith in her arms, and stood in front of him. Their baby girl's lips were pursed in a pout, in a way really reminded Rick Amanda—He closed his eyes for a second, sharply breathing out—everything—_everything _reminded him Amanda—the way she'd been pleased with herself, declaring that Judith pursed her lips in the same _she_ did—Rick opened his eyes and looked at Carol.

"I'm taking Judith—" the older woman told him, "You go and find Daryl." She paused, "You know you're right, Rick, but you have to learn to cool it down if you want to deal with them."

With that, Carol turned and left the room, and Rick was truly alone.

He bowed his head and looked at his tore jean shirt, missing buttons and damaged fabric leaving his chest open and he shook his head, blood drops at his collar, and over his knuckles. Carol was right. He—he had to keep it together. This—this was no use to neither to Amanda nor Beth.

The words had boiled his blood—painted everything red, but Rick wasn't sure anymore with who he was angry the most. With the damn Monroe, or Daryl, or Carl, or with himself.

_Wherever you go, death follows,_ the man had said, and he'd been right. Death followed his footsteps. _We're all in this shit because of her, _he'd also said, and he'd been once again right. He'd accepted to go to Hilltop only because of Amanda—only because of her…

_You failed again,_ Carl had said, and his son had been right too. He had failed. _You can't protect anyone_, he'd said, and Rick couldn't have. He'd let them take her away from his arms…

He hissed sharply again, recalling how they'd pulled her back—and her eyes looking at him as the jeep carried her away… With guttural scream, Rick pushed up his feet and kicked the coffee table in front of him—the same coffee table that Amanda had sat down in front of it, covering its every edge with plastic so their baby wouldn't have gotten hurt… the same coffee table she'd made her last groveling after their last fight…

Her home—every part—every corner—every inch having her touch, her mark—like the marks she'd left over his back with her nails or over his shoulder and neck with her teeth and lips—everywhere—she was at everywhere—yet she wasn't there. Not where she belonged—with him… Always with him…with her family.

With another scream, Rick started trashing the room.

# # #

As Amanda walked out of the parlor, leaving Beth behind, she realized that two men and Arat was going to be her—retinue during her stay at Sanctuary. She'd asked one of the women who she thought as the leader how she could go out, and the woman had sent a young blonde girl out. Amanda caught the young girl's name as Amber and felt—sick. She looked even younger than Beth, having the same sunshine kissed hair and blue eyes. Her latest worry found her again as she walked along the corridor, and Amanda pushed it down. There were a lot of women in Negan's apartment suit, she'd counted at least fifteen of them since yesterday, they were in all ages and types, though Amanda must be one of the oldest of the girls…

She kept a sigh inside her. The _wives_ seemed to be there by choice, but what kind of choice was that anyway? She knew Dwight and Cherry had escaped when Negan had wanted to take Tina—Cherry's little sister as his wife for her meds. She scoffed inside, her own bitter thoughts finding her again—all in frankness, Negan didn't look doing with his wives something different what Amanda had herself done with Joan—finding women who wanted to live a bit better, safer life… and Amanda still knew, given the chance, a lot of women still would've preferred to stay with Negan despite everything. It was just the way of the things too, and that was why they had to be the most careful.

Her retinue, though, seemed to be another story.

Arat wasn't one of the wives, but Amanda was already quite sure the woman worshipped the ground Negan was walking. The other two—well, it was hard to tell. They had that glint in their eyes that made Amanda's hair on her back stand up, a sick leering gaze, and she felt that if they'd been there at those cells, one of them would've tried something with them. She couldn't explain how—but she still did, perhaps her intuition of a lifetime of waiting to be abused or something, or her experience as a cop—she didn't know, but she knew what she had felt.

She'd done the right choice, had protected themselves.

She made a mental note to look further into that—found some angle she could twist back with those men, but for now, her priority was Negan. They needed to get back to Alexandria. She needed to talk with Rick before they did something stupid…like…like trying to infiltrate into this place.

They stopped in front of another wooden door at the end of the corridor, and Amanda understood they'd arrived Negan's personal living quarters.

Arat knocked on the door once, and a second later it was opened—by another blonde girl, barely in her twenties, and she walked out of the room before she stepped inside, leaving her own bodyguards outside the door as well.

Negan was wearing his leather jacket too, and Amanda held back another snort inside her—interior the building was quite warm, despite the late winter chill—another…miracle Sanctuary had managed to make. She wasn't even feeling cold with only her dress. But Negan seemed to like, quite going well with his overly-exaggerated-cult personage—keeping up appearances.

Speaking of which, he turned aside to look at her, zipping himself up, then his hand halted for a second seeing her all dressed up. Beth hadn't put up a lot of make-up, only a faint blush, mascara, eyeliner and lip balm, but still with her hair done, and with the dress it made a lot of change. "Wow, black rather suits you well."

She only stared at him back, not dignifying an answer, or not to encourage him further. All in frankness, all this dressing up was getting on her nerves, especially thinking what Rick would feel seeing her like this beside the damn psycho… She held back a sigh this time… and how much she had wanted before Rick see her pretty when they'd arrived Alexandria—even wore those ridiculous heels for him.

She grimaced, her lips setting in—and barely held herself not to glare at the man. Goddammit! Perhaps she just should slit his throat and be done with it! Right now, it really didn't sound like a bad idea.

Except she could get herself and Beth, and her _babies_ killed—_if_ she managed it, that was it. Besides, they really shouldn't do anything before Amanda really understood what was going on with these people. This Simon was also giving her creeps.

"Come—" Negan said then after the brief silence between them, "Let's get you show up around."

Let's get you show off around…more likely, like…like she was a pretty, dressed up doll… Rick Grimes's pregnant wife, lapping around the mighty Negan. Her stomach heaved again with the thought, and she thought if she would get away with it if she…_accidentally_ threw up on him.

She'd already thrown up twice this morning—but it seemed soon she was going to have her third time.

He took her elbow to steer her out, opening the door, and she snapped it back, and sent him a look, "I _said_ I don't want to be touched," she hissed.

The maniac shook his head, and raised his hand up in the air, palm turned at her in peace sign, and took his bat next to the door.

"Lucille—you see how…uncivilized she is…" he talked to his bat mockingly, rising the barbed head up, and Amanda saw it clean…then her mind filled with visions of Glenn—the bat falling on him…

She closed her eyes—and her stomach turned upside down, and she rushed further inside to find the bathroom, holding her stomach— "It's the last door at the corridor—" the bastard shouted behind her.

When she was out of the bathroom, they left the room without further…complication. Arat and the other two guards were still waiting in front of the door, and they fell behind them as they started walking, "Where's the tweety?"

Amanda scowled, "She's at the parlor—" she said, and turned to her head to him, "She isn't involved into this. It's just _me_."

His eyes skipped at her, and the bastard gave her a sleek smirk, "I see."

They exited out of the corridor and the rush of the morning in the rest of the compound hit her like a tsunami wave. Above the railings of the top level, Amanda looked at the below, the community that lay over her feet.

There were _really_ people everywhere. Negan titled his head their guards, and started walking again, but this time they didn't follow. Amanda decided it was a good thing, and she guessed the man also wanted to show her around without any intrusion.

Then it happened… as they slowly walked in the metal platform staircase, whenever they passed by someone, the person dropped on one knee, bowing his head. The first time she faltered at her steps, her eyes drawing at the scene—couldn't fucking believing it—and it just kept going… Each person they passed by dropping on their knees.

She couldn't fucking believe it!

"I don't ask for it—" the megalomaniac psychopath commented beside her as they walked by another two on their knees, head bowed, "They just do it."

She kept her eyes ahead and muttered, "You're not stopping it." No. He wasn't. There had been a pleased, accomplished timber in his voice when he'd said they just did it, and they possibly did to…please him.

Goodness, what kind of madhouse they had been brought in?

And under the bow heads, Amanda could also feel the stares—just like she'd presumed… Rick Grime's wife—all pretty and black, walking beside Negan. The talks would start soon, she knew.

Anger flared in her insides again, even the notion of it… but she pressed it down. She had to do what she must. "How did you find Hilltop?" Negan then asked.

And, the questioning had started. She forced herself to calm down, sorting out her thoughts. She'd prepared herself for this. She didn't suppose the maniac knew much about them as they hadn't told anything about Dwight and Cherry at Hilltop, even to Jesus, but there was also the men Daryl had killed with that rocket launcher. Yet, they hadn't told no one how they learned about Negan, so she just had to spin her tale, and make it countable.

"People have collective memories," so she started with truth, taking a step at the staircase as they started descending the first floor, "I was making a list of historical places in Alexandria to find other communities—" she explained, "People also follow patterns, so I thought they're the best places to find other people."

The man gave her a look, "And how did you find out about _us_?" His eyes grew sterner, his lips losing his usual sick smile, "Kill my people?"

Well, here the tricky part. "We didn't know they were _your_ people. Daryl and Abraham were on a supply run, then found this truck and guns. Their way was cut by your people asking their goods…so well—you must've heard the rest of the story."

And he had, she was sure of it but the there was a lot of blank points in her narrative, so she continued before he could question her for more, steer the topic away from Dwight and Cherry— "We learned they were actually yours when we came to Hilltop for trade. I was also looking for a doctor to see if I could get pregnant—" she added that part as well. The doctor had told them about it, so slipping something true in her words must build more credibility for her tale, "Gregory—" and she continued—putting the blame on the already dead man, no harm done. "He wasn't happy with your deal, talked about you. We understood then it was the same people." She paused, tossing a glance to see his reaction, but he was in silence, listening to her.

She stopped her descend and rested herself against the railings. On instinct her hand moved to her stomach too, feeling the slight bulge—the fitting dress had revealed her gentle bump more, and a part of her still like it—the feel of her hand over it. She pulled her hand back, and went on, "When Gregory saw us, he saw the opportunity," she went on, building the frame of the story more. Gregory was a sleek, slithering snake of a man, and she believed he was capable of doing something like this, and by the slight curt nod Negan gave her, Amanda realized Negan was also sharing her belief.

Relief washed her. "We made a deal—" she then said, "We were gonna help him with you, and in return he was going to give us supplies."

The man scowled back at her. "The doctor said you came first at the beginning of the winter—and you took _my_ supplies-" he questioned, "Why did you wait until now?"

Well, shit. She'd fucked with time slots again. Thoughts raced in her mind quickly, and she grasped the first thing that came to her enough reasonable. "It _was_ winter—" she said back, "Not a good time for—venturing outside."

"Hmm—" Negan grunted, taking his bat against his shoulder, and she wasn't sure if the gesture was a simple habit or an intimidation.

"And the supplies was for the down payment—" she added, and despite everything, the curt words left her mouth before she could stop herself, "Excuse us for not thinking your people would get that murderous over some shit."

Negan gave her a sick smile, "Simon and I—we've got some differences handling disobedience."

She glared, "I noticed."

"Did you, didn't you?" He laughed, and took a step closer to her, "It was a good very thing that I came down last night to deal with you, doll! Imagine how it would've been if it wasn't _me_. Simon probably wouldn't have stopped unless he killed a great deal of you. He got very angry when you killed his buddies." He paused, leaning over her even further, "So instead of glaring at me, darlin'," and bounced on his feet a bit, "you _should_ be thankful to me."

She pulled back from him, holding the railings, and shook her head, her stomach turning— "Yeah…you're the fucking savior of us," she seethed between her teeth.

"But I am!" the man exclaimed, throwing his empty hand in the air beside her shoulder, "We got seven outposts and three hundred fifty-four mouth to feed. We serve. We provide security. We bring civilization back to this world, doll. We're the Saviors."

And Amanda decided, among other things the bastard was also delusional. But… seven outposts, and three hundred fifty-four people!

Fucking great.

"Why did you look for the doctor?" the man then suddenly asked, looking at her eyes, taking a step back from her personal space, "Dr. Carson told Simon you were very—relentless to get pregnant. Why?" His eyes lowered at her abdomen, toward her bulge, "Why did you want a baby?"

Really fucking great. That question again?! For a second she wanted to open her mouth and screamed at him because she was fucking in love, and wanted a piece of her husband, the man she loved, grow inside her, but the truth really wouldn't work here once again. She sighed, and drew her eyes away around and asked, "How many wives do you have?"

"Eleven."

"And any of them ever got a child?" she inquired, turning to him.

"No. Not yet."

She nodded. "Rick—Rick doesn't have wives. He's a good, honest man, a family man—protective, providing, serving—" she used the adjective Negan had used too, "he can get—a bit…heated sometimes and goes berserk and whatnot—" She added with a little smile, angling her eyes towards her chaffed wrists to get her point across him, "but well, no one's perfect." She paused, and clinked her tongue, "The other women know it, too. He doesn't have wives…but you see…there was _a_ _lot of_ competition around for him." She lifted her eyes back at him and stared at the man openly, "I didn't want to be a wife," she then remarked slowly, "I wanted to be _the_ wife."

And it wasn't even a lie—she wanted to be _his_ wife—only one for him—the love of his life—She remembered how she'd felt—melting inside when he had told her he'd never loved anyone the way he loved her—even Lori… She was the love of his life as he was hers. But Negan didn't need to know that. Nope.

Let him believe that she'd tricked him into the pregnancy to bound him to herself. "You see-" she continued, and smiled, "I'm not only his wife, Negan, I'm the mother of his unborn children."

Negan bounced at his feet again, smiling at her, "Wow! You're really one hell of a cold-hearted bitch!" the man barked out with a laughter.

She held his eyes, "I'm adaptable."

"Yes, you are," Negan repeated back again, and shook his head, "Snake of a woman." He snickered, "I might even try to kiss you, but I fear your lips might be poisonous."

She rolled her eyes. He leaned forward, "But—but don't you love him even a bit, woman?" he asked, _still_ smiling.

At her tongue came a retort, tell him love was for fools and suckers, and she almost shot it back too, but something held her lips—she just couldn't say it—Words couldn't just leave her lips. Goodness, she was the biggest sucker in the world… For Rick. So, she only shrugged with a little smile, and let the man read whatever he damn pleased into it.

And he did, and he did, shaking his head at her, he told her, "Yeah, no one is perfect, doll."

And she was far from it.

# # #

In the middle of the wreck he'd created with his own hands, Rick sat down on the floor, his back against the couch, his hands over his knees, trembling…trembling…trembling…

Everything was in ruins… he'd ruined everything… Couldn't protect—

"What're you doing?" her crisp yet clear voice suddenly asked, words curt and dry like fallen leaves.

Rick lifted his head and looked at her—Amanda—Amanda was standing in front of the room, her arms crossed over her chest, clad in her white satin dress, a pinched expression over her face, her lips clenched down, and he knew once again he was the source of her displeasure.

No… Not again… He shook his head… Not again.

"Yeah, honey," she mockingly called out at him, "You've started hallucinating again—" she told him, "So…what the fuck are you doing, Rick?"

Bowing his head, he shook it, "I—I—"

She cut him off, "Remember the barn, Rick—" she ordered at him, "Remember what you told me." Her eyes held his, "Remember what your grandpa told _you, _Rick."

The memory flashed at his eyes… She was sitting beside him at the barn, her hair tangled and dirty—with brain pieces… her uniform dirtied and tore at the side… her arms hugging her knees…

_But every day is a new day,_ and he told her… and she said back…

Rick lifted his head and looked at her figure clad in white, "Every day is a new day."

"So, get up and fight."

She disappeared, and then Rick _knew_.

* * *

_Oh my god, so many accomplishment I managed to do with this chapter. I was wanting to make Amanda deal with Negan for a long time, and Amanda and Beth preparing as Negan's wives, doing each other's hair and make up, and Rick finally having a hallucination of Amanda... :)_

_"Get up and fight" is from Rick's infamous "we tell ourselves we're the walking dead" speech._

_Please, don't forget to review. I'm still waiting for five reviews :) Thank you._


	19. Chapter 19

XVIII.

Anger and fury, and helplessness were like poison in his veins as Rick's words turned in his mind as Daryl furiously walked out of the house and left the town, his feet quickly moving him away from the gates toward the woods.

_Goddammit how! How we get them, Daryl! _

He didn't know where the fuck he was going, he'd felt the need to get away because he'd known sure as fuck if he'd stayed, he would've punched Rick. No, Daryl wasn't going to pass another night back in the houses as Beth was there captive, taken from him again.

He remembered the funeral home—he remembered the black car with white cross drove her away as he helplessly watched it—and ran, ran and ran for hours after it in the middle of the night… Until the dawn.

No. Never again.

Rick—Daryl wasn't like Rick. The other man could do it perhaps—could _regroup_, but Daryl couldn't. Rick was a leader, Daryl was not. He only wanted Beth. He was going to get her back. Now. It couldn't wait. He'd lost Beth once, and found her again, and he was going to do it again. Nothing—even Rick could hinder that.

His decision made, his mind steeling, Daryl knew then clear as fuck what he should do. He placed his crossbow over his back and started walking back to the town. He needed his bike, and guns. Grenades, weapons, knives… He needed to suit up.

Before he made it back to the gate, Carl found him in the woods. The teenage boy gave him a hard, serious look, his dark green eyes tilted under his sheriff hat, "I'm coming with you," he then declared.

Daryl didn't bother to decline what he was about to do, but still shook his head. No. This was about him. He could endanger his life—for Beth, he could even give it for her—but no one else. Despite their current differences, the young Grimes' place was beside his father. He could never do this to Rick. "Nah…You stay."

Carl shook his head, the gesture placid but curt. It somehow reminded Daryl the old days in the prison, the teenage looked like those time now, distant but stoic with a cold fury—after Lori's death—for a second or so Daryl's breath stopped. Fuck! Lori—Rick… Rick—Rick had never watched before the woman he'd loved taken away from him like Daryl had to, but Daryl had never had to live what Rick had suffered through. The next second he felt like a prick—fighting with his friend—with his brother—imagining the pain and fear he might be having now—

"I'm coming," Carl repeated with the same cold tone, cutting through his dark thoughts, "Dad does nothing," the teenage boy seethed, "He just let them be taken away. Did nothing."

And Daryl found himself backing up Rick, "We couldn't do no damn thing,"

But Carl shook his head again, "He does nothing!" he shouted, his fury unleashing, "He never does anything! Couldn't save Mom! Lost the prison, almost lost Judith, now we're losing Amanda, too!" He poured out his anger, only stopping for a short breath before he continued, "He brought her into our life, made her make cookies for us, made her love us, made us love her, made babies with her then he failed them too!" He kicked forage under their feet, "My brothers, sisters! He fails them even before they've born."

Daryl looked at the young teenage coolly after his angry rant, "Are ya done, kid?"

Carl glared at her, his eyes seething, "I'm no damn kid."

Daryl walked to her, "You act like a damn one, tho'—" he snapped, and realizing he'd been acting in the same way as well, like a damn kid like Carol had used to tell him—a petulant, angry child. They—they needed to get them back. And they were going to. But only together. _We can make it together, we can only make it together,_ he recalled Glenn's words to Rick back at the road. Glenn—the best of them—was right again. They could only make it together.

"Your dad—" Daryl told then to Carl, "Your dad's the best father anyone'd hope to have for. He loves you, protects you. He'd die for you. He'd _kill_ for you. He'd bring hell on anyone who'd hurt you. But he ain't no damn hero like in your comic books, kid," he said, understanding it was also the truth, and they were just men, trying their best, fighting with their teeth and nails, fighting with their everything until their last drop of blood. And Beth and Shepherd—they would fight until their last drop of blood, too. They couldn't do it alone. None of them could do it alone. "He needs us. We can make it together, Carl, but we can only make it together."

Carl bowed his head, his fury slowly winding down after his words, and Daryl—hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder and held it like Rick always did and tilted his head down to find the young boy's eyes, "You say you're a man now—but are you?"

His head snapped up at Daryl, and he gave Daryl a look under his hat, "I am."

Daryl held his look, "Then be a man, Carl," Daryl told him back, "Accept your father's just a man, too."

Then, slowly, Carl nodded, bowing his head. "I—"

Daryl nodded back and squeezed his shoulder. "Let's find you dad then," he told the younger man.

They were going to get them back, but only together.

Slowly, but decisively they walked back to the town. When they were in front of their house, they started climbing the porch's steps but before they could walk in, the door opened, and Rick walked out.

Daryl's eyes drew towards his tore shirt, missing buttons, and bloodied collar, his knuckles chaffed, the corner of his lips having a slight redness over his beard… Ah.

"What happened?" Daryl asked, eyeing his appearance.

The other man shook his head, "Nothing of importance." He paused, giving both of them a searching look, one leg going over the other in his usual pose, and asked, "You back?"

In silence, they nodded. "Good—" Rick said then, nodding back, "We have work to do."

# # #

After Amanda left the room, Beth followed her example and went to the parlor.

Amanda was right. They had to mingle with these people, watch and learn—like she had done at Grady.

Look around and tell me what you see…

Daryl's lesson echoed in her mind, from the woods after they'd escaped from the prison, seemed now like a lifetime ago.

But the lesson was still the same… _The signs are all there, you jus' have to read 'em._

So, standing in the corner, Beth tried to read the signs. Amanda had told her to go and play piano, but Beth first wanted to have an air of her surroundings. Just like yesterday the women stood clustered around the well-furnished parlor—in companies of three or four, so it meant they had to be some sorts of groups between them, as it was also expected. She'd counted a dozen or so women all dressed up, and there were other women as well walking around, doing stuff, but by their state of clothes Beth realized that they were just workers that kept the order around.

Negan's wives didn't seem to do shit—but just lounge around the parlor aimlessly. A fury found her seeing it, this was ridiculous—being this…passive in the middle of the end of the world, dressed up, make up and hairs done, and just wander around. She wondered how many of them actually had coerced into this—like Cherry's sister would've been if they hadn't escaped and how many of them had accepted it willingly, living luxuriously, and well, safe.

Somehow Beth knew the answer wouldn't be something she would like—but she'd already accepted it—it was a fact, like Amanda had used to say—everyone worked with what they had, and not everyone could be a fighter like them.

The old Beth would have revolted against the idea, but the old Beth had died long ago in that elevator shaft too. She wasn't even the same girl who tried not to die in the apocalypse anymore. She'd survived through hell and back, eaten worms and dog meat, held a man's arms as they cut it off, cut her own damn arm, fought with walkers, fought with people, hell, she even killed people…Wolves—she'd killed Wolves, never lost any sleep either. And she had saved people. Like Daryl, like Rick, like Maggie, like Amanda…Beth had saved people, too. She'd led a whole herd of walkers all alone, and saved Alexandria from a certain run-over, saved Dwight and Cherry.

And, they were going to save themselves from this shithole, too.

Together.

Yet, Amanda was right. Daryl had probably lost his mind right now, might be already trying to infiltrate in the compound, and if he would get caught—Inwardly, she shook her head. She didn't even want to think about that if.

Amanda was really right. They had to go back to Alexandria and tell Rick and Daryl they were okay—tell them they should wait. They were inside. The last time Amanda and Beth had worked together they'd brought down Dawn. They could do it again. These people were worse, yes, but they'd become better as well.

So much better.

"So you're new bird—" A silky, snickering voice came from her side, and Beth turned toward it, and looked at the owner, and at from the first sight, Beth knew, the queen bitch of these little commune had found her. The redhead woman gave her a smile, a very similar one Beth used to see adorning Amanda's face before and glanced at her other companies. There were three other women with her too, two of them blondes like her, and one light brown hair like Amanda, "I think Negan's started to have preferences. This's the fourth blondie after you girls."

Beth gave her a cool look, "I'm not his wife—" she said back, "We're—" she paused, and remembered Amanda's words, "We're his…guests."

The redhead laughed at that softly, "You mean his prisoners?" she shot back, "Though, you must be at least smart. Most of the times prisoners don't end up here." She paused for a second, too, "Actually, it's never happened before." The woman smiled again at her after the words. Beth stayed in silence. "I'm Frankie," she introduced herself then, and nodded at his companions, "And these are Tanya, Nicole and Amber." The last one, Amber, was the youngest, the blonde hair and blue eyes like her, and her eyes were red as if she had been crying, and she had a sad expression over her face. Beth wondered the reason and made a mental note to look for more later. All of the other women had aloof expressions over their face, by choice or forced, Beth didn't know for sure, aside this woman around her age.

Frankie caught her look toward the younger woman, "Amber broke a nail this morning, so forgive her…moping," the ginger head told her.

Beth sniffed, and said, "Beth Dixon."

Her hand rested on her other arm's elbow, Frankie pointed a finger at her, "So you're not Rick Grime's wife."

She shook her head. So, they'd already heard about it, even _here_. Amanda was right. Soon all Sanctuary was going to talk about Rick Grimes and his…rebellion. "No. It's my friend," she said back.

"The one left early in this morning?" Frankie inquired further, rubbing her fingers to each other in her pose, and Beth decided to play along. The woman—the woman looked like she was getting worried.

"Yes," she said.

"Hmm."

"Is it true that he'd rallied two of the outposts behind him in two days?" the woman asked then, jutting out her hip, her voice getting more cross, her eyes weighting Beth heavily.

Beth realized it then, "We weren't going to hurt you," she said in return.

"You were about to attack us," she shot back, "How can you not hurt us while attacking us?"

Beth grimaced, "And you asked that while sitting here with the stuff belonging to other people?" she asked, and tilted her head at the ornated lamp she's seen at Hilltop the last, "I'd seen this lamp at Hilltop before your people destroyed it." She paused, "These violent delights have violent ends," she quoted.

The redhead's face sobered, and she took a few steps closer to her, "You should be more careful what you say around here, Beth," the woman told her then, "Even the wives can get punished."

"I'm not his wife."

The woman's eyes held hers, and agreed, "No, you're not."

They left her after then, and Beth quelled down a shiver the words had brought to her, shivers, and old memories and dread—the feel of the corner of an old picture suddenly hitting at her cheek. Her hand raised at her cheek, and she touched at her cheekbone where her old, fainted scar left a pale mark over her skin. No. The memory made her tremble again, but Beth forced herself to stay calm again. She'd helped Noah, she'd survived Dawn, escaped from Grady. They could not keep them here. They were going to go back. A whole army of death couldn't keep them away indefinitely from where they belonged.

Determined, she walked to the piano. She'd planned to play a good song, soft and hopeful, like the one she'd played for Daryl when they had found the funereal home, but now, she didn't want to play a good, hopeful song.

No.

She sat down in front of the piano, and hit the keys slowly, but decisively, weaving an infamous melody. As soon as it filled the air, a silence fell in the room, only her song, and silence, and stares.

Beth continued playing, "_I'm gonna fight 'em all… A seven nation army couldn't hold me back…_" she started signing, forever in defiance, fighting for home.

They were going back to home. Nothing could hold them back. She knew she was making an invitation for trouble, but she didn't care. They—they weren't some nice house pets like these women. Better Negan learned it, too, she continued signing as her fingers fastened on the keys:

_And if I catch it coming back my way  
gonna serve it to you  
And that ain't what you want to hear  
But that's what I'll do_

She threw her head downward, her voice raising toward her last octaves, thinning, her hands flying over the keys:

_And feeling coming from my bones, says find the home_

_I'm bleeding, bleeding, bleeding before the lord_

And her tone reached at her last octave, and tossing her head backward, she screamed the last lyrics with determination coursing through her veins:

_And the stains coming from my blood, tell me go back home_

When she stopped, everything was in silence, not even single sound in the room, no chatter, no ruffles of pages, no heels clinking, nothing. Out of breath, Beth bowed her head, her chest tightening, her throat raw with the octaves she'd reached…her head spinning…

Then a heavy thud ringed in the room…

"I'll be damned!" Negan's baritone voice boomed in the silence of the room, and Beth's head snapped up, her heart skipping a beat. Slowly, Beth turned her head, and looked at the man as he stood in the middle of the room, supporting his weight on his baseball bat next to Amanda, whose astonished, alarmed expression was all clear over her face, green eyes widened—staring at Beth, saying openly, what the fuck have you done?

Beth didn't know. She—she'd just done it, wanted to show them— wanted… Negan barked out a laugh then. "Jesus Christ, someone really _gotta_ teach you a few lessons," the psychopath laughed harder, shaking his head, his eyes heavily on hers as Amanda's appalled expression turned into a mighty grimace, her lips clenched in a silent fury.

She shouldn't have done it, Beth knew, she—she was keeping up trouble now, even Amanda was playing nice with him, meek and demure, but well, contrary to all evidence, playing nice wasn't going well with Beth.

# # #

"Yeah, no one is perfect, doll—" Negan told her, shaking his head, then took another step in on her, entering her personal space once again, and whispered at her, leaning over her side, "But you put a good show," the man continued with a smile, as her own vanished off.

Her head ahead, she turned her eyes and looked at him, "A very good one, but you couldn't help yourself, could you?" he asked rhetorically, "Your emotions… they got the best of you—A good, honest man, and you couldn't help yourself."

Still motionless, her head still ahead, she cursed inside. Well, it seemed that she got caught in her act. "Do you know how I know?" he asked further, and answered before she could even open her mouth, "His name—when you were drugged, you whimpered out his name—" the bastard said with that smile, and took a step back to look at her better. "It was shit sad, doll," he remarked, shaking his head, "you—moaning his name helplessly at the floor… I was moved to tears."

He laughed at her again, "Yeah, no one's perfect—"

Her nerves frayed, the memory pushing into her consciousness, she remembered the doctor again! That sonofabitch! That lying, backstabbing, smiling sorry excuse of a man! When she got her hands on him again—she turned her eyes back at Negan, "Are we gonna yammer about my love life whole day, or we'll do some work?" she snapped.

"Wow—cool down—" he bit, raising his hand up in warning, "How cattish you're… bet you get punished a lot because of that tongue of yours." This time she held her tongue, didn't jump on the bait, he was playing with her—goddammit, and he was playing—and she was losing, "Does he?" then he asked, looking at her curiously, "Does he punish you? Is it why you got those nasty chaffs at your wrists and marks at your neck, doll?" He walked in her again as she leaned back over at the railings again, "Does he teach you your lessons? Lay you over his knees—?"

Her eyes widened, she stared at him. "If you were my wife, I'd teach you a few lessons. You seem to be lacking discipline."

She stared at him, fury spreading over her like a fire, and words left her mouth before she could stop herself, "He _doesn't_ punish me," she bit off, her chin tilted up in defiance, "_I_ ask for it."

"My goodness!" the sick bastard exclaimed, and gave her another sick smile, "You're really one of a kind." He shook his head, "You beg him, don't you? Beg him to tie you up and fuck your pussy—"

She snorted out, "You seem to be lacking imagination," she shot back, shit already had gone out of the control, and she could play, too, "He does _much_ more than that."

In answer, he only gave her a smile, and she glared, and they looked at each other for a few seconds, her glaring furiously, him sickly leering, and finally she gave up, and bowed her head, sagging her shoulders with a small sigh. "Are you done?"

"You tell me—"

"We need to work—" she said, lifting her head up.

"But we _are_ working—" he said back, "We're showing you off…Just like you said. People see you beside me."

Rick Grimes's wife… They'd been here for a while—inches apart—Bastard!

"We need to go to Alexandria," she then remarked, mostly to rattle him a bit to gain some ground back, to get him off her neck, and well, they needed to go back to Alexandria. She needed to talk to Rick. She needed to talk to Rick before things turned even more insane.

"We go the next week," Negan countered.

She shook her head, "No. We can't wait. We have to go now."

He gave her a look, "Hmm—"

She decided to cut the bullshit and talk to him openly, "Look, no more games. I'm gonna speak openly. We have to go to Alexandria. Now. You took us. Our husbands might be trying to infiltrate into your compound as we speak now. I need to talk to Rick."

His eyes regarded her carefully, this time no playful glint in them—sick or otherwise. They were wary, and speculative, weighting her up and down seriously. "You don't want him to rescue you?" he asked after a while.

Amanda shook her head, "I don't want him to get himself killed. I don't want any bloodshed," she spoke truly. Amanda had been looking at the place since yesterday, and even with the little stuff she'd seen she'd figured it out. They couldn't infiltrate or _escape_ from this place without help from inside. And that was going to take time, recruiting help—an accomplice from inside. The fences and gates were well-guarded, by living and by the death. If they tried, it'd turn into a macabre. Amanda didn't want that. She had other plans. And she needed to talk with Rick. _Like now._

"I'm trying to be reasonable," she continued, "They can't get into this place. But we're here and they don't know if we're okay or not, so they won't stop until they know. So, let us speak to them." She paused, "I swear I'm gonna stop them from doing something stupid."

"Hmm—" Negan gave her another contemplative look, "Maybe I want him to do something stupid, so I could get to kill him."

"You don't want to kill him—" she shot back quickly, "If you wanted him dead, you could've already done it." No, the sick bastard wanted to beat Rick forced him onto his knees, keep him there—she remembered her thoughts at Hilltop. Maybe it wasn't the only reason, but it was still there. If Rick was dead, the game was over. But Amanda didn't want any provocation further; she'd fallen into his trap already once just a few minutes ago. Not again.

So, she held his eyes, "Rick's the force that keeps us together," she said, "He brought us together, made a family out of us. If he's gone, we're done, too. There's no Alexandria—no more people who would work you." And that was something Negan could understand, "You wouldn't want that."

Negan was still eyeing her carefully, so she changed her approach and tried another angle, "Look, you already will go there, why not now? What's the difference?" she asked, as the same time wishing Rick had gotten Dwight and Cherry out of the town first thing in the morning. They couldn't stay there, she didn't want them to get discovered, and they were still the only inside intel Rick had—Rick…Rick should be doing it the first thing—but well, they were both gone, so she wasn't sure how things were there…

Just another reason she needed to get to there. "You really want him to live, don't you?" the man asked again then for a while.

She didn't run away her eyes, "Do you know how hard it's to find a good husband these days?"

He snickered, then turned on his heels and started walking away.

With a sigh, Amanda followed. Walking, she noticed they were going back to his apartments again. Her little stroll with him had finished, and she was going back to her…chambers. She was beginning to understand it was going to be hard to find some alone time. Later, she told herself. Later. First, she had to deal with this, and she'd already managed to get her first scoop anyway.

While bragging, the egomaniacal maniac had slipped off they had seven outposts. She just needed to discover where they were now. Dwight and Cherry hadn't known a shit about Sanctuary as workers, Amanda could see it now even clearer, but if they really managed to recruit an insider from his inner circle… Hmm… One of the wives… The wives must know a lot of shit… They were always with him, and Negan had a way of over speaking—condone his work life and special life into together. Any woman with a half of a brain must have already piled up a lot of his secrets. This…harem of sorts had a lot of competition as well, more than a dozen or so women in the same place, and one man. Well, she could almost imagine what kind of schemes and plots were going around that place. Beth and her just needed to find the most suitable one of them. Someone like Joan. When she'd talked with Joan the last time after Dawn had cut her off, Amanda had told the woman she still had a life so she had to make it count, and Joan had done… even with her death, she'd made it count. She was still sorry for what had happened, but if Joan hadn't done what she did—she stopped her thoughts and focused on what lay ahead of her, her old guild and regrets trying to seep through her. She—she couldn't deal with them now, but everything with Negan and Sanctuary had really started to remind her of Grady.

Somehow everything ended up reminding her of Grady, and Amanda wasn't sure what that meant.

On the way back, Negan picked up her guards again, "Gary, David, come—" he said, as she also finally learned their names. Arat found them again too before they moved up to the top floor. She first heard it when they came to the corridor that led to his quarters, a melody—a piano melody, understood Beth had listened to her and started playing.

She nodded inwardly satisfied, they needed to learn how things were with his wives too, then suddenly realizing the melody, Amanda's steps faltered, as Negan stopped too.

Then the bastard started laughing. "You—you girls… you wicked girls…" he muttered, his steps picking up.

Her heartbeat fastening, Amanda followed him quickly, her retinue back at her heels… the song reaching to her…

_And if I catch it coming back my way, gonna serve it to you  
And that ain't what you want to hear, but that's what I'll do_

God damn you, Beth Greene! God damn you to hell and back!

She closed her eyes, entering in the room, appalled and petrified as Beth screamed the last lyrics with that soprano voice of her, _I'm bleeding, bleeding, bleeding before the lord…_ _And the stains coming from my blood, tell me go back home… I'm gonna fight 'em all… A seven nation army couldn't hold me back.._

Well, they were practically doomed.

There was that expression over Negan's face as Beth hadn't even realized they were here, in the silence, but the others did, staring at them in shock. Then shaking his head, he hit his bat at the floor—hard, and exclaimed, "I'll be damned-!"

The he let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head, "Jesus Christ, someone really _gotta_ teach you a few lessons!"

Her stomach twisted into knots with the words, her lips clenched—the way he'd asked her if Rick ever lay her over his knees—God, no…!

Oh, god no!

But the damn bastard turned and snapped his fingers at his men, "Get ready. We're going out!" then he turned to her again, "You got your wish, doll. We're going back home."

# # #

"How did you escape?" Rick questioned the former Saviors, sitting in the kitchen in the house Dwight and Cherry was staying with Olivia and Enid, and a few other Alexandrians. The others had left the house to them and Rick had realized that had been the first thing he should've done, not talking to others, not trying to deal with Spencer or Daryl, or Carl, not wallowing in self-pity or despair.

He had to fight. Go to war.

_Rest in peace, soldier. Now get up and go to war._

Like how Amanda had said in the barn, like before they'd left for the Kingdom, like in his hallucination; get up and fight.

Though, Dwight shook his head, "We—we bribed one of the guards and slipped off between the shifts." He paused, "You can't pass the fence without them noticing you, I'm sorry."

Next to him, Daryl shook his head back at him in defiance, "Nah… There gotta be a way—" he said. But Rick knew his first thoughts before he'd yielded into his fury and despair had been also the best course of action.

He was going to endure what he must, then he was going to go to war. "We're no good to them if we're dead," Rick told Daryl calmly, his eyes touching Carl as well.

They must've understood now. They had come to find him. Carl still looked pissed at him, Rick could tell, but his son was here, so it was okay. They'd deal with the rest later. They were all here, and that was what mattered.

Rick turned to the married couple, "We need to get you out of here, ASAP." After his declaration, they all looked at him, "You're at risk. Negan said he's coming the next week, but we shouldn't take any risks."

Cherry had a terrified look, understanding his words, but Dwight looked at him in seriousness, "But what if they talked?" he asked, "Told him we're here?"

"They wouldn't—" Rick said, "We didn't tell anyone how we found about them. Even Jesus didn't know. Beth invited you to live us. Amanda thinks you as one of us." The couple were one of them, their residents, living with them for months, and Rick knew what that meant for Amanda. She would've never sold them out, "She'd protect you."

"How?" the man asked.

"She'd spin a story or something. She's a damn good liar," he remarked placidly, no trace of humor in his words, "She'll find a way."

She would. She always did. Rick knew it. He should've never doubted about it, about her. _My mind works fast when I get depressed,_ she'd told him jokingly after their first break up, but Rick had seen how fast it'd really worked. In a matter of a night, she'd managed to get herself Deanne's aide, snitching the position under Maggie's nose, then stole the gun from him and started planning a whole of stuff to get herself up in the steps in the morning.

And now depressed and stressed, her wits might bounce off on the speed of light. Rick knew his wife. Amanda was the most adaptable creature he'd ever seen all in his life, capable of adjusting herself almost to anything. She struggled along the way but made it. She'd had managed to work along with him seamlessly as they took down Dawn without even knowing his name, had even managed to create out of herself a housewife like it was what she'd been doing all of her life as easily as she made her cookies.

He had trusted her once when Wolves had attacked, chosen to go after the herd, trusting them to deal with their attackers, and they'd managed it. He'd made the right choice then, now he had to do it again.

Then he was going to get her back.

"Where'd we go?" Cherry asked in the sudden silence, and Rick looked at the woman, he saw her eyes was moist with fear and worry.

"The Kingdom—" Rick answered. There was no place else. "Hilltop is ruins, unguarded. We can't protect you there. Richard hates Negan as much as we do. He'd give you an asylum. We need to talk to him in any case. See what they plan to." Daryl looked at him in question, Rick shook his head, "We started something. Richard knew it, too, as Ezekiel did. He'd want to avenge his death." He paused, trying to sort out his thoughts. He'd lost so much time, so much fucking time galloping in his misery instead of taking care of this shit.

"We also need to check on Hilltop," he continued, "Without Gregory or Jesus, they can't keep up the community. That Ethan—" He shook his head again, "He can't do it. One of us needs to go there and take the lead—" He paused, thinking over it, "Abraham and Sasha, and Maggie," he went on, deciding who would be the best option. Maggie was still cross with Abraham and Sasha, but it was hardly important now. Rick didn't want Maggie when Negan came to Alexandria. She'd be safer at Hilltop. Rick still didn't trust the sonofabitch an inch, and he'd already taken enough of his people. "We need to prepare them," he said, "Really train them."

"For what?" Carl asked.

"For war—" Rick answered simply, and stood up, looking down at them, "Get ready. We leave in an hour."

Leaving them in the house, he found Abraham and Sasha, and talked to them about Hilltop, then found Maggie.

The older Green shook her heatedly as soon as Rick told her what he'd planned, "No. I—I need to stay here. I need to—"

Rick cut her off, "She did it to protect you, Maggie—" he reminded her.

She shook her head again in answer, her lips thinning, "No."

"Maggie—" Rick answered, "I don't want any more trouble. Please, go to Hilltop. Abraham and Sasha will cover for you."

Maggie swallowed, and looked at him, "You'll get her back, Rick, won't you?" she asked, eyes tearing, "She's—I should be there—not her…" she whispered, "I should be there."

Rick held her shoulder, "We'll get them back, I promise."

She then finally nodded, "I believe you. I've always done. I always believe in you—" she said back as Daryl found them too in front of the house. She looked them pleadingly, "Please, get her back to home."

Daryl nodded, and told her quickly before Rick told her they would, "We will."

After she went into the house, Daryl turned to him, "You meant it there?" Daryl asked, "War?"

"We both were right, Daryl—" Rick told then his friend, his brother, "We both were. We have to fight, but we also have to be smart. We _have to_ trust them. We did it once, we can do it again."

Daryl nodded again, "I told Carl today we can make it together, we can only make it only together."

Rick looked at him, remembering the words. "Glenn told it to me on the road."

"I know—" Daryl said back, "He—he was the best of us."

"We'll avenge him, too brother, we _will_."

They were going to. All the things they had lost, they had suffered. Perhaps not today, not tomorrow, but one day. "I need to talk to Eugene. You coming?"

Wordlessly, Daryl gave another half nod and they found Eugene in front of infirmary. "Molotov cocktails," Rick asked directly the pseudo scientist, "Can you make Molotov cocktails or bombs using the fuel?"

Eugene nodded. "What else do you need?" They still needed a distraction. A very big one. If they couldn't infiltrate in secret, then they were going to need to do the exact opposite. Their first plan. They'd bring down a part of fences, opening up a way though, let the walkers in, and then infiltrate during the chaos.

Dwight had said they'd turned down the former workers dormitory in a prison for the prisoner they took, so Amanda and Beth had to be there. They went in and extracted them, then got the hell out, simple and plain.

For the rest—they would see. He turned to Daryl and explained his plan. "Only a few of us," Rick said, "We go in, fan out, locate the cells, and get them out."

"And then?" Daryl asked, voicing out his thoughts.

Rick shook his head. "We get them out first. We'll deal with the rest later."

Simply, Daryl nodded as well. Rick turned to Eugene, "Prepare the list," he ordered, and left the infirmary.

They had to go a supply run, too. Find the supplies Eugene would need, find more guns and weapons. They'd taken their guns at Hilltop, confiscating them along with their rocket launcher. They needed more of them. If Glenn had been here—he stopped the thought, pushing away the tendrils of despair slipping through his consciousness again. No, a day would come they would mourn for the death of his friends as much as they would avenge it, but it wasn't today, either. Today, they had to fight.

Over his eyes, Amanda's vision, clad in white, passed again—He was doing it. He was fighting. They were fighting. _If you don't want to die, you have to fight… _Carl found them again as they walked towards the gate. "I'm coming too," his son told him, giving him a look, in defiance—challenging him to tell him no.

Rick didn't do it. Instead, he nodded. Then towards the gate, a twirl of rush started rising—he saw a cluster of people approaching it with wary steps—then Rick saw it—a shadow of a figure over the light brown canopy of their gate—a figure bouncing on the back of his heels, over his shoulder resting a shadow of a bat—

Rick stopped dead in his tracks as all Alexandria echoed with the sounds of it as the bat started hitting at the metal.

* * *

_Holy, moly, ring a bell! We did have a Daryl POV after *ages*. I've been waiting do this with him and Carl for a long time, one of my main regrets with Adaptation I had to stop his interactions with Sam, I was enjoying him so much. I like Daryl interacting with young people a lot. So him handling Carl was great for me._

_And Beth! I WAS dying to make her sing again, especially that song. It's, if anyone wouldn't catch it, the iconic Seven Nation Army from The White Stripes, but it's Holly Henry's piano cover, I imagined Beth saying it like this. It's on YT, check it out. It's awesome, and I think it's great to show Beth's defiance. I like Beth the most when she's an absolute force of nature, never giving up._

_Amanda and Negan, not saying anything... Amanda's in sort of a trouble, ugh. But it's good fun to write her being bitchy and defiant again, as well._

_And, Rick, the quote from the last chapter actually was "get up and go to war" I noticed it later, but Amanda had used both, so I left it as get up and fight. Rick's "She's a damn good liar" is actually from canon too, Rick had told her that in the show. Back in the days, that line itself was the little motivation that got me sucked into this pairing. So glad to finally used it, too!_

_The next we finally go back to Alexandria! and Rick sees Amanda and Negan together, not cool! I also almost finished the next chapter, and got another one the half done. Staying at home in social isolation at least makes one write more._

_Speaking of which, stay at home, guys, too and be safe!_

_Being ever the hopeful one, I'm STILL waiting for five reviews! But let's be honest, even if you won't, I'll still upload, LOL. 'Cause you know, social isolation sucks. (Better than being sick, of course. I should not whine...)_


	20. Chapter 20

IXX.

"Little pig, little pig—" the sonofabitch shouted, hitting the bars, "Let me in—"

Rick twisted to Carl, "Go find Dwight and Cherry, hide them in the detention cell—" The makeshift cell was still the one what Deanne had made up from one of the empty houses, they still hadn't done their proper prison.

Goodness, this was too soon—a way too soon. He shot a look at Daryl, as the hunter's whole day tensed—as worse as his… "Daryl—" Rick warned, "Keep cool. We need to keep cool."

His face cast off stone, Daryl gave him a brief, curt nod. Rick started walking to the gate. Spencer had already arrived, and ordered the guard posted at the guard, Ben, a barely teenager around Carl, to slide open the fenced canopy, but let the real barred doors closed.

"Who are you?" Spencer asked, giving him a look.

In front of the trucks that parked in front of their gate, Negan started laughing, his eyes finding Rick's over the younger man's shoulder, "Ah, here the man of the hour comes—" he shouted again, and turned his eyes to Spencer, "He'd make the introductions."

Rick stopped in front of the gate, and motioned at Ben to open it, "Come on, man, tell them who I am—it's bad manners not to."

Rick sent him a glare as the bastard stepped in, but complied… He had to play along. "He's Negan." He had to play along…he passed in his mind again, "We were waiting you the next week."

"Had to change the plans—" Negan shrugged back, and twisting his neck, gave Rick another sickly snicker, "Your wifey…she can be _very_ persuasive."

His jaw clenched, throbbing with pain as he gritted his teeth, "Where is she?" Rick rasped out back, "Where are they?"

The bastard softly whistled, "Come down here, doll," he called out.

The beast inside started roaring again—wanting to rip him off—punch him at the face, broke his jaw, made him choke on his teeth… His eyes blackened, and he fisted his hands tightly—and heard Daryl's guttural grunts.

They broke his trance. He forced himself to relax… He had to do this…For them. For Amanda, for Beth. The psychopath wanted them to react. He was here to rub it at their face. They—they shouldn't fall into his trap again.

Then Rick heard it—a staccato rhythmic clinking on the asphalt—pronounced, unmistakable…heels… Rick listened to the sounds of heels as someone walked—then behind the trucks Amanda slowly emerged.

And Rick stared…

No… No… No! No!

Everything he'd feared for the last night—everything he'd dreaded would happen to her—This… His head started spinning as Rick looked at her as she walked toward them, her eyes finding his, too.

She—she looked beautiful, so beautiful, it hurt him. It hurt him like someone was tearing him apart, eating him alive, feeding on his heart… She was wearing a fitting black dress, her slight bulging stomach more apparent over the long black coat she wore over the dress, a cashmere black scarf wrapped her long, graceful neck, black sleek shoes with sharp heels echoing at the asphalt with each step she took toward him. Her face had make-up, too, her hair curled and redesigned, and she looked alluring, she looked gorgeous, she looked beautiful, and she _shouldn't_.

God, no…

Amanda was the most adaptable creature she'd ever seen all of his life, Rick remembered his thought, but could she—could she…do it? Could she become one of the bastard's wife over a night? No. The answer came to him such a clarity, Rick let out the breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

No. Amanda would never. She _hated_ men like Negan. She'd never betray him like that in exchange of safety. That was never her, _never_.

The bastard must be forcing her hands—just to torture Rick further, rub it at his face… His eyes turned to Negan. The man titled his head again when Amanda stood beside him, holding her hands in front of her.

This time at least they weren't tied. "Bring our little nightingale, too," Negan ordered, and a few seconds later, Beth emerged behind the trucks too, wearing another black dress just like Amanda, her hair done, her face beautiful with make-up.

"They wanted to come—" Negan explained then when Beth stood at his other side, and the sick bastard threw his two arms over their shoulders—

Daryl made a move in answer, darting toward him, but Rick stopped the hunter, raising his hands, and stared at the man, "They wanted to show you how _good_ they are—wanted to show you how good I'm taking care of them—" the sonofabitch laughed loudly, "Don't you, dolls?" he asked, titling his chin down to look at them, "Ain't I taking care of you good?" he snickered as his eyes darted between Rick's and Daryl's, "Some might even say _better_ than sorry shits, eh?"

Rick's hand fisted along his hip as he glowered, as Negan laughed again, and started walking inside, "Let's see what you got for me, little pigs—"

Just as he started walking again, dragging Beth and Amanda too, a walker slipped by through the trucks and came at their sides. Even before Rick pulled out his gun, one of Negan's men pinned the walker down.

Negan laughed again, shaking his head, "Will you look at that!" he cried out, "We already started protecting you!" He dragged Amanda and Beth a step forward, "My, good thing that we're here, huh?"

Over his shoulder, Amanda's eyes flicked over him, looking at him pleadingly, and Rick remembered his oath… He was going to kill the bastard. The most horrible way possible.

# # #

Amanda was experiencing once again knowing something and living it was entirely two different things. She'd known how it was going to be once they were back at Alexandria, of course she did, but well, living the moment was worse than she had expected.

It hurt seeing Rick like this—looking at her like this, at first with disbelief and shock, then with—suspicion, thoughts running over his mind she could see it clearly in his clear blue eyes, then as if a veil lifting off his gaze, he realized what was happening—her smart man always had a quick wit. He'd understood her hands were being forced, and the bastards taunting words were just adding insult to jury, yet they had to learn to live with it.

They had to.

And by the way he had forced his fisted hands unclenching, Amanda knew Rick trying to swallow the bitter medicine.

Her eyes flickered at him as they passed him by over Negan's shoulders, begging silently to understand and didn't make a scene—and got a hold of Daryl.

With the corner of her eyes, Amanda could see Daryl was no better than him, but the roughish hunter had a temper even worse than Rick. They had to suck it up. They all did. "Wow—no wonder you wanted to come back, doll—This town's fucking awesome!" Negan exclaimed, tilting his head downward, his arm still over her shoulder, as the other was holding Beth's at the other side, "Which one of those is yours?"

Rick came to her side, and opened his mouth, but lowering his arm over her shoulder toward her waist, he grabbed her and pulled her closer to his side. "Nah—you can't talk to them… It's forbidden." He laughed, "You only…watch."

Rick's jaw throbbed again, and Amanda decided to cut the bullshit. She needed to talk to Rick. Now. She twisted her neck, "Five minutes—" she hissed at the bastard, "You promised me five minutes. I want it now." Rick's eyes grew sterner after her words, and she pulled back from his grip, and gritted through her teeth, though making sure her words would carry over both men, "And we're not to be touched by _anyone_, remember?"

Even though speculation darkened his blue eyes, the tension in Rick's squared jaw lessened a bit, she could see it even under his beard, a relief washing over his expression, and she wanted to throw herself at him, tell him no one could touch her, no one but him. She was _his_.

She had to tell him.

But she wasn't allowed to.

"Jesus Christ, cool down, woman!" Negan exclaimed again, pulling off his arms off both of them, shaking his head, and lifted his eyes at Rick, and there was laughter in his eyes, a sinister laughter, and Amanda knew whatever was that going to come out of his fucking mouth, she was going to fucking hate it.

"Boy, she's the most snappish woman I've ever met!" the bastard leaned over Rick, taking a few steps further, "You do her good, Rick?" the bastard asked then, "'Cause you see…the way she's, puff," he snickered with a huff, leaning even further, Rick was staring ahead, and Amanda let out a soft breath, turning her eyes away, "She always sounds like she needs someone to fuck her brains out."

Rick's eyes snapped so fast at him, her heart skipped a beat, and she feared this time Rick was going to do it—jumped on the fucking bloody bastard again. Negan laughed at him hard again, and twisted toward her, "So, doll, lead the way—your home."

Amanda didn't make him repeat the words a second time. She turned on her heels and started walking toward her home. God, this was going to suck. Negan scattered the rest of this entourage around the town with a wave of his hands, and his people wandered away to started sacking the town. The town she'd lost her baby—almost sacrificed her chances to have another baby—the town they'd fought and protected with their blood…her home.

Tears came to her eyes, seeing them entering into houses with rude laughter and snickers, and her hand went to her stomach… Alexandria. They needed Alexandria, a safe haven from the shitstorm out there—their refugee, where they got to live, all of them together. Her family.

And these sick bastards were taking it away from them.

She wondered if this was how Rick had felt losing the prison—losing his home, and the thought that Rick was living this shit once again almost buckle her knees and made her drop down. She—she must be beside him, held his hand, be there for him. Told him it was going to pass—like it had before, he was…he was going to find a way, like he'd done before, brought them back together, because it was what he did. Even Deanne had seen it.

But she couldn't. She wasn't even allowed to look at him openly, wasn't allowed to talk to him, touch to him… Negan had been quite clear on that. He'd told them on the way, told them if they disobeyed, someone was going to be punished. Severely.

Outside the porch, she stopped, her steps faltering—Judith and Carl… her little baby angel, with this maniac—her stomach twisted into knots again, imagining the sick bastard touching her baby angel, and Carl—Carl was an adolescent, was always quick to throw tantrums fittingly, he shouldn't be with him. The sonofabitch noticed her hesitation and stopped at the porch.

"What's it, doll?" he asked, his eyes heavily on hers, his bat going up over his shoulder again, and his lips pulled out, "Memories, eh?"

Then Judith in his arms, Carl walked out to the porch. As soon as he saw them, Negan understood, "Look at that!" he exclaimed, looking back at her, "You already got a baby!"

"Mommmieee—" Judith cried, seeing her, trying to reach at her over Carl, and her chest swelled with emotions so suddenly, her eyes watered, Negan motioned at her with his head, "Go on, doll, don't make her cry," he told her then.

Amanda rushed at Judith and took her in her embrace, pressing her baby at her chest, burying her head over her neck, breathing her scent into her nostrils until her head spun…

She held her tears forcefully—she couldn't cry—she couldn't cry in front of him… He opened the door and motioned at her and Rick again, "Go inside—" he ordered with another tilt of head, and turned to Arat, their two other bodyguards, "They stay here—" he ordered too, waving at Daryl and Beth, "He can stay—but no talk…" he stressed out with another snicker as Amanda stepped inside, "You can only look."

Inside she stood up, Judith in his arms, Carl and Rick standing a few feet from him. Negan turned to Carl, "You're his son?" he asked.

Wordlessly, Carl nodded. Negan walked toward them closer, his eyes on Carl's Sheriff hat. He shook his head, "Goodness! This's the most hideous fashion statement I've ever had the misfortunate to see, boy!" he exclaimed, tipping the hat with a finger, "Where did you find it?"

Rick's jaw throbbed again as Carl's eyes found Negan's under his hat, and glared… "It's dads'," Carl answered.

"Fuck me good!" Negan exclaimed and turned to Rick again, "You were Sheriff before?" he asked, and laughed hard, "I thought you were just a cop like her." He turned to her then, eyeing her with Judith curiously, "Why didn't you tell me you already had a daughter, doll?" He walked to her, and a curt edge entered into her voice, "Were you lying to me?" he asked, his eyes suddenly glinting with menace.

She shook her head, "No. I'm not her biological mother," she answered, "She's Rick's daughter."

Judith was their daughter, no matter what, but she wasn't going to tell them about Lori's infidelity. Better if the maniac knew Judith was Ricks'. But Negan gave out a snicker, shaking his head at her, "You really couldn't help yourself, could you?"

She grimaced as Rick frowned, not understanding what the words meant but understanding it meant _something_. "I _want_ my five-minute," she told the maniac then. She had to talk to Rick. It couldn't go on like this.

With a sigh, he nodded. "Go on then, have it your ways." Like a bolt, Amanda rushed at Rick, as his brows clenched further and caught his hand before he could do anything else and started dragging him upstairs. "And no funny stuff… I'm warning you, doll," he yelled after her as she climbed the stairs.

Amanda didn't fucking care, she just wanted to go to her room and throw herself at Rick, hold him between in her arms, wanted him to hold her in his arms… wanted him to kiss her, hold her, caress her hair, bite the corner of her mouth—god, she wanted him. She wanted him so fucking much.

She walked into their room, the room—the scents—the furniture—the air—everything, everything she'd so much fucking missed over a _night_ assaulting her—time was really relative. A night at Sanctuary with her family had passed like a lifetime. Rick closed the door, following her inside, "Amanda—" he started, but spinning around, she didn't let him.

She threw herself at him, hugging him fiercely, her arms clasping around his neck in a tight grip, her eyes watering. "Rick—" she breathed out, bringing him closer to her, "Rick…"

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Rick hoisted her up along his body, his lips finding hers— They started kissing hungrily. Her back hit at the door as he slipped off her coat over her shoulders, and she raised herself up on him further and wrapped her legs over his waist, the back of her stilettos digging under his ass.

Dresses…dresses and stay up stockings were the best fucking stuff that had ever invented by the mankind. His hand slipped over the sheer fabric and then went over her naked inner thigh…and found her G-string…

It stopped and he pulled back an inch, her body still held in his arms, "Amanda—he—he made you wear these?" he sputtered out, his electric blue eyes finding hers, and she swallowed, looking at him… "Amanda, what's happening?" His eyes narrowed, "What's this five-minute? What did you do?"

She unclasped her legs, and slid down off him, her moment of frenzied lust quenched. "I—I made a bargain," she forced out through her tight throat, "I'm—I—I'll work for him."

He took a step back, "What?!"

She shook her head, "I had no choice!" she exclaimed, started explaining quickly—they didn't have time for this. Only five minutes…only five, and there was so much stuff they should take. "He wanted to put us into cells," so she began, "Negan—He doesn't have the control over his people as much as he'd like. It wasn't safe. We needed to get out of there." Rick gave her a half nod in agreement, but his eyes were still having that alert wariness, keen and sharp eyes searching through her, "I messed up with him," Amanda continued, "told him I noticed Simon went behind his back and destructed Hilltop without his consent, and told him I'd work for him."

With the last words, he flinched, his jaw clenching, "Work for him how?" he rasped, "Wearing stockings and G-strings?"

"Goddammit! Yes!" she almost yelled back, her voice a seething hiss cattish. They were losing time, bickering at each other. "Look," she told him then, "We don't have much time. We shouldn't fight."

He turned around, and walked away in the middle of the room, "Excuse my temper, Amanda," he spat, waving an arm at her, "I've lost it seeing my wife coming at the arm of a sadistic maniac wearing dresses, stilettos, stockings and G-strings!"

"Rick—please—" She walked toward him back—he shook his head at her.

"How could you even accept this?!"

"Would you rather have me rot in a cell, waiting to be raped or tortured, or _got_ raped or tortured or what!" she spat, "Your _ego_ would've felt better in that way?!"

That got him shut the fuck up. Amanda breathed out a long drawl, shaking her head, "This's why he accepted it—make us fight like this," she muttered under her breath.

She always knew. She'd played on it, but now, facing Rick she was fucking hating it. Though, fair to be her, she also knew that it was going to suck, so she guessed she had to just suck it up. Learn to live with it. Just like she'd told the damn bastard before. Just like he had to do, too.

"Look, we made a bargain. He's putting me on view like a circus monkey, all pretty and like _this_—" She waved her around over her dress, "because I'm your wife, so get over it.!" She'd started rather well, but as she kept going on, her voice raised again despite her best effort. She quelled it down and went on, "In return, he's accepted to treat us as _guests_, and agreed to give his protection, and five minutes alone with you."

Rick's eyes grew suspicious, "And he accepted this just because you're _my_ wife—"

"I can be very persuasive," she repeated Negan's words, staring at him. His eyes darkened, electric blue turning into a tempest after her words, "This's another submission, Rick. I'm your wife, your _pregnant_ wife, lapping around on his word—" she sighed, "This's not a game. Look how it made you furious. It makes him stand _stronger_ in front of others."

"Is this supposed to feel me better?" he bit off, giving her another look.

"It's what it's," she said quietly, shrugging her shoulders off almost in defeat, "I'm sorry." She fucking hated it, but she just had to suck it up.

But within a heartbeat, Rick was onto her, and his arms clutched her upper arms, "I'm gonna get you outta there—I-I—" Getting panicked, she shook her head agitatedly. That was exact reason why she'd had to come!

"No!" she exclaimed out, "No. It's suicide. You can't. We have to wait."

His fingers dug at her skin, "_Not_ an option!" he hissed, "I'm _not_ going to wait while he does this to you, Amanda."

Flickering her eyes, she checked his wrist and saw that the half of their time had already passed from his watch. They'd lost so much time fighting. "Rick, listen to me. We don't have much time left. They've got seven outposts and three hundred and fifty-four people in total. You can't win this way. Dwight and Cherry had no idea what they were into. I'm beginning to get an idea, fair and square," she summarized the situation for him, and added, "But I'm in. And Negan likes to _talk_. Likes to boast."

His eyes narrowed, "Amanda, tell me you're _not_ thinking what I'm thinking what you're thinking!"

She stepped further in his embrace, breaking their contact, and touched his cheek, "Rick, babe, we have to play smart. I'm circled by his wives and his lieutenants. Just over a day, I managed to get out of him they got seven outposts out there. Imagine what I could dig out if I stay a bit while longer."

"No. Absolutely not!" He shook his head, breathing out loud, "Jesus Christ! You're not some Nikita, Amanda! You're pregnant."

"This is why I have to do it, Rick. For our family. I don't want us to live under his thumb."

He held her shoulders again, "No. You hear me, no. _Never!_" he hissed at her angrily, "I'm gonna get you out there!"

"And imagine you did, imagine you got me out there—what happens then?" she shot back, "What will we do?"

Her only answer was his silence. He also knew it wasn't that easy. He just didn't want to admit it. "As soon as we're gone, Negan comes back here—to get back us!" Amanda pressed further, "We can't win like that! He's got the numbers, but he's _really_ got problems, too, with his lieutenant," she started talking faster.

God, she had to be quick, she had to make him see it! She had to! "That's the _real_ reason why he agreed on my offer, Rick. He wants to keep them in line. What happened last night isn't only for us. We agreed on that I'll work for him, will find him his troublemakers. He understood I've got natural talent for politics. And this Simon…this Simon is worse than him, Rick. If we kill Negan, we might even make things worse for us. Think about it. If I can work on them, divide them further apart, drive a wedge between until they completely break apart, then they'll have to deal with themselves, two rats fighting for dominance. Just so as you can find time to forfeit our walls, build us an army, a real one. Find supplies, more people, train them. Remember the mob wars? How Families sometimes used to get divided and then all hell would broke loose?" she asked, "We didn't use to do any shit about it, just watch it while they take care of themselves," she continued, still not taking any breath, "then take out what remains at last."

"It's dangerous—" Rick shot back, "What remains usually is the most dangerous one."

She shook her head, "Is it more dangerous than coming back here, trying to deal with him while he got the numbers?" she cried over, "we _can't_ win like that, Rick!"

His eyes found hers, "We leave—" he told her then all in serious, staring at her openly, "We take the kids and go away. Find another place, start over." He shook his head, "You _can't_ do this."

"And go where!" she cried out, throwing her hands in the air… Where? There was no place, no place safe. And after all they had suffered, after all they had sacrificed and worked to keep this place up, would they let it go…try to make it at somewhere else…let down people who trusted them…leave them at Negan's mercy… She shook her head. No. _Not an option_. "_These_ are our people. We can't leave them. We can't leave them to Negan!"

"We take Beth and Daryl—" Rick told her, but she cut him off. _No._

"No, no—" she opposed breathless, "No…Alexandria _is_ our home. We fought for her. We bled for her. _I_ bled out there on her streets to keep her safe! Good people died for her. We earned her with blood and tears. For our children! I'm not giving it away. Judith and Carl are not going to live like we had to, like wild animals. My babies will not be born in the wilderness. They will _not_!"

Never. Alexandria was their hope—a better world… They could never give up on that. _Never_. "Amanda—" Rick softly called at her, walking on in her closer, "Please."

She gave a head of shake. No. No. They couldn't do it. "You told me you'll let me take charge in public—" she told him then, her eyes finding his, challenging, "If you really meant it, Rick, then you _will_ listen to me!"

He was looking at him back, directly, openly, but silently. "You told me, Rick!" she whispered again fiercely, rising her hands to show him her chaffed wrist, "You told me you'll listen to me!"

He shook his head, "I told you're the leader, Amanda," he told her then, "but in the matters of security, I still have the full authority. No."

Her eyes glistened, hurting, "You promised me," she reminded him back, "You promised me a real life, Rick."

That got his resolves shaken. "Amanda…" he whispered, walking even closer, his fingers going through her done locks as he cupped her cheek, "Baby, I—I can't endanger you like that—" His eyes on her almost done her, though she didn't know what for, "I have to keep you safe."

Words turned in her mind, as he spun her head…his closeness, his warmth, his smell…his everything—he was her everything. Everything she'd ever wanted, ever needed. But…but they couldn't leave… They…could not… Steeling herself, she pulled an inch back from him. "You have to trust me. I can do it. I can make it."

"Amanda—"

Whatever he was going to stay was cut with a heavy thud at the door, and Amanda knew what it was. The blasted baseball bat.

She was going to burn that thing! When she was done, when she brought down their fucking home on their heads, she was going to burn that damn thing as well.

But first, they had to endure it.

She stepped out of his arms, and repeated for the last time, "You promised me."

She then turned on her heels, and walked on the door, and opened it.

Negan smiled at her. "Finished?" he asked, giving her a leery look, eyeing her ruffled hair and the coat over the ground.

She walked past by him, "Yeah, we are."

# # #

The scene was going to make the worst of his nightmares…watching her walking away from him—that sadistic bastard at her heels, knowing that she was willing to sacrifice so much for them again.

No…how could he let her? How could he let her do it? Play a spy game with a psychopath while she was pregnant with his babies. How?

They—they should leave—all of them… Find another home, start over. He should take her back and find another home themselves. They could do it. They'd already made it. It—it wasn't worth it. The home…home wasn't a place nowhere, but _them_. As long as they were together, it was what that mattered.

But—they—they had stayed out there too long, as well. He remembered the road, lost in the wilderness and misery… No. They couldn't do it, either. They also needed a place….

Alexandria. _I bled on her streets out there…_ her words echoed in his souls… _You promised me._

A real life, a better life… He—he put it back together, he had. It was—it wasn't fair. They—they'd earned this, earned Alexandria. Amanda was right. They'd earned it by their blood, tears, sweat, so many good people they had lost…and that fucking maniac was taking it away, even his wife, and Rick was watching it—

_You promised me_, her voice echoed in the blankness of his mind again. _You promised me…_

He'd promised her so many things… promises he couldn't keep.

Bowing his head, he touched the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache creeping over the back of his eyes again, the despair slowly clutching at him—

Rick shook it off. They—they had to fight. They had to…but would he fight like that? Was that the answer?

_A man could bear most anything if he must,_ he remembered again, but could he really endure that? Could he let her be with that man—playing with fire as he sat here waiting?

How she could even ask that!

It'd be damn easier if she'd asked him to rip off his chest and give to her his heart.

Another bark of laughter erupted from downstairs got him out of his dark musings, and Rick started walking out. Whatever damn thing he was going to do it—at first, he was going to watch her leaving with the sadistic bastard.

At least—at least, he knew she was fine. A small mercy as it was, but Rick needed every little of it now.

"Wow! Look at that beard! Feral!" Rick heard his bouncing voice before he made back in the hall. Back there, Negan was standing up, laughing, holding Deanne's old camera in front of him, Carl holding up Judith as Amanda glared at him at the corner—and his steps faltered as Rick heard his own voice.

"_Because it's all survival now…at any cost," _his record spoke in the silence of the room, "_People out there are always looking for an angle, looking to play on your weakness_." He closed his eyes momentarily as the sick bastard gave out another bark of laughter,_ "They measure you by what they can take from you. How they can use you to live_."

The man closed the screen shut, and it was silence again, the recording stopping. Negan laughed another time. "Fuck me good! You weren't a bloody idiot after all."

_Looking to play on your weakness…_ Calling his wife doll, putting her on view, making her wear dresses and heels, making crude jokes just to get under his skin… Just to break him. And, the bastard was making a hell of a good job of it. He _was_ breaking.

His hands fisting, his eyes drew at Amanda as she silently gave him a look simply saying _don't_. "Let's clear the house, doll, so you could feel better at home—Arat!" and he shouted as Rick moved. That was enough! Fucking enough! _Alexandria_ was her home! Their house was her home. _He_ was her home.

"Rick!" she snapped his name, taking a step closer to him, but Negan raised his bat at her before she could take another one, "Go back! Now!" he shouted at her, "Your five-minute is done. No more talking now."

Rick watched her taking a step back, breathing out—and his eyes flickered at the coffee table. It was half glass. He was standing close to it. If he threw himself at the bastard, they would fall in it…The taciturn woman and others barged in as Rick played the move inside his mind, opportunity missing.

"Move out—" Negan told them, waving his hand, and Amanda turned and started walking out as if to make him come back to his senses. Negan's men—Negan's men were at everywhere. If he did a move—No. He wouldn't risk that, not yet. He—he had to cool down. Not let him get under his skin. That was _why_ the bastard was here, he reminded himself, forcing himself to cool down, to rub it at his face.

Rick started following her, Carl looking at him—angrily under his hat… He—he… outside the porch what he saw stopped his thoughts.

They were taking everything…_everything_, clearing out the houses even down the mattresses. At the porch, in silence, Beth was watching the scene, too, her eyes glistened with unshed tears as Daryl watched her.

"What?" Amanda breathed out, turning to Negan, "This—you can't do this—" she said, "You said...half of everything—" She waved her arm, "You're taking everything!"

Negan shrugged, "Change of plans—gotta to give these cocksuckers a little bit motivation—" He smiled at her, "Stop glaring. I'm leaving half of the food."

"You're fucking generous," she snarled.

"Language, woman!"

Wrong! The word flashed in his mind. Wrong. This was _wrong_! Her—bickering with the fucking bastard like this, with that glint in his eyes—reminding him—reminding Rick…

His heart stopped as he realized it. Perhaps the fucking bastard was doing this to rub it at his face, to get under his skin, but…but Negan—he was getting engaged with her…with his wife, with his beautiful, pregnant wife, suddenly it was so clear to Rick. That glint, that half leery smile… Rick knew it; it'd started like with him, too, annoyed but also attracted even before he knew what he was drawn into!

Everything, everything was getting worse by every moment. Amanda liked nice men, she hated men like Negan, men like Gorman…but men like them…men like _them_… men who liked challenges, liked to force people into submissions…The thoughts turned in his mind rapidly. He had to get her out of there. He had to get her away from _him_. Now.

He took a step forward, without even not realizing what he was doing—what he should do—then one of his men brought Eugene, yanking him off his collar, the man's other hand holding a list—The gruffy man gave it to Negan, "He was making this list when he found him," he said, and Rick understood.

Worse, getting worse every second!

He'd realized what that list was. "Wow! Such a shopping list." Negan bellowed out, and eyed Eugene carefully, "What's these for? Explosives?"

"They've got also a fuel tank out the fences."

"Hmm—" Negan hummed, bouncing on his heels, and turned to Rick, "Oh, boy…you're full of surprises, Rick." He motioned at him the next, "Get it, and confiscate all their weapons, too." He shook his head, his eyes turning to Rick again, "You aren't getting the wrong idea, Rick, are you?"

He stayed in silence as the bastard kept looking at him—and Rick looked at back. "Doll told me she won't let you do something stupid," the bastard then commented airily, "Will you not do something stupid, will you, Rick?" he asked, as if challenging him to do it—and Rick's eyes skipped at Amanda for a second, and she was again looking at him with that look—pleading, soft light eyes begging at him silently.

Rick only said, "No."

Not yet. No.

"Good!" the sadistic maniac exclaimed out, then started climbing down the steps of the porch as from heir left side an uproar arose in the town. Their heads snapped at the sounds, Rick wishing no one else had done something stupid, then saw Dwight and Cherry getting pushed out of the empty house they'd put them in.

And Amanda's face whitened upon seeing them.

Rick gave out a sharp breath out of his nose. Goddammit!

Negan shook his head, looking at Dwight and Cherry, and turned to Amanda, "You're a damn good liar, woman—" he told her, still shaking his head, "But lying to me like that... That's not cool. So. not. cool."

Amanda visibly swallowed, "They—"

He raised his hand, pointing the bat to her, "Stop now. We're gonna talk about this _later_."

Then he turned around and stepped down from the porch. "Holy moly shit, look what we've found, little pigs!" he shouted, staggering towards the pair, rising the bat over his shoulder.

* * *

**Oki doki, here we are... Negan, Rick, and Amanda, all together in the same place. Good thing that they all are still alive. The next chapter is gonna be THE chapter, something I wanted to do from the start, and it's gonna be dark, I mean, really disturbing, and it's almost finished, just need to tweak it a bit before I post it.**

**So I'll see you shortly, I think.**

**Until then, ciaociao.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Okay, here it is. Please advise caution. This is going to disturbing and dark, and more explicit than my usual style, because the narrative and character development were needing it. Please don't scream at me reading it, "what the hell, woman?"**

XX.

Her forehead resting against the truck's window, Amanda tried to isolate herself from what was happening—what had happened back at Alexandria. Everything felt like a nightmare—everything.

She wanted to cry. It was nightmare. They had to fight, they had to endure, but at each step, they were losing—losing people.

Dwight and Cherry… They were dead. He—he'd killed them. "You know the rules…If you desert us, you die," he had said, simple and plain, and shouted another Arat, and then two gunshot echoed in the air—and the couple was gone.

The questions had been asked, no explanation demanded, just like that—_if you desert us, you die…_ Then he'd walked back to them, and announced, "No one can run away from me."

Amanda had known then the words were meant for them—for _her_ as he looked at her, openly. Rick had moved another step toward her after it, and his eyes still on hers, the damn bastard ordered again, "Arat, if this sucker takes another step again, kill his son."

Rick stopped as Arat drew her gun out again and pointed at Carl. Amanda had just told then to Negan they should go back.

Maybe—maybe coming back here hadn't been a good idea, she didn't know. She'd been so adamant, so fierce talking to Rick. Now she was just tired—tired of doing this—tired of losing—and she was alone.

Beth was in another vehicle, they'd separated them into different cars, so Amanda didn't even have the small comfort of her friend being with her.

She was alone. And she was scared out of her shit.

She was going to get punished. It was coming to her, she knew. She felt it. She was going to get punished, just how like Dawn had used to punish wards when she lost it or when they did something she didn't like. Beth—Beth still carried Dawn's scar over her cheek—faint, pale, but it was there. _Every contact leaves a trace_, she passed in her mind, and wondered what kind of scars she was going to carry after today.

She'd thought herself prepared…she'd thought ready—so perhaps today was really the day she was going to find out.

Negan had liked her lying about Dwight and Cherry as much as Dawn had liked Beth's escape attempt with Noah, though what else he had expected, she really didn't know.

Had he really expected she would've sold them out like this? They were _their_ people! Had he really expected them to give the couple to him on a silver tray?

When they had arrived, she slowly stepped down from the truck, heels and tight pencil skirt making it worse, and held her stomach. Her babies… she had to protect her babies.

Whatever the punishment was going to be, she had to protect her babies. She couldn't let that son of a bitch hurt them. Never. Her hand on her stomach, she steeled herself. She was going to suck it up. He couldn't break her. Never.

Small mercies, Negan had ride with another vehicle, so she had been really _alone_ all the way back to the compound, but when they were back, he came to their side, Arat and her other two guards Gary and David standing a few feet away from her, even then not leaving her alone.

"Take them back to the parlor," Negan ordered Arat, "I'll be coming soon."

She saw Beth coming too, and they fell back together a few seconds later, and started going up towards his living quarters. While they walked, she sensed a light touch at her fingertips, and twisting her head, she looked at Beth as her friend gently brushed her fingertips over hers, like she'd done to her before.

Amanda almost burst into tears.

The air inside the parlor was tense, she sensed it just as they walked into the well-furnished room. Amanda wondered if the women had heard what had happened even though it wasn't possible. They had just come back. They had gone into their room and started waiting in silence. After fifteen minutes, she shook her head, suppressing her tears.

"He's doing this purpose, making us wait," she muttered out, "Bloody bastard. He's doing this just to torture us more."

"Amanda—"

"I just want to be done with it!" she bit off, standing up from the chair she was sitting. She did. She fucking hated waiting! And waiting something bad to happen was worst of all—the absolute worst!

She passed Rick in her mind—how she wished to be back in her home again, in his arms… She stopped the thoughts. No. Thinking it, thinking Rick, thinking home just made it worse when she was forced to live through this. They made her weak. She can't be weak. She couldn't afford it. She had to be strong. For her babies. She couldn't make out of it if she got depressed.

No. she had to prepare herself. Whatever was going to happen, would happen. She would try to hinder it, if she could, but if not, then she was going to suck it up. Perhaps this was just her punishment as well…for the things she had done, for the times she'd closed her eyes what had happened at Grady and turned her head to the other side.

"Beth—" she called at her friend, turning toward her, somehow she felt the need to say it out loud, she had to say it out loud, "Dawn—Dawn used to beat you. I know it. She did it after Noah's escape, too. I'm sorry," she told her, "I'm sorry I did nothing to stop it."

Beth shook her head, "Amanda you shouldn't think about it now."

Yeah, she might think how the fuck she was going to get punished instead.

Giving out a sigh, she slumped back on the chair. She really wanted it done now. But he couldn't do that, of course not. She smiled bitterly. The cunning, sadistic, damn bastard had to play with her, make her feel the dread and ambiguity more, make her worry with unknown…

She'd gathered it as soon as they'd put them into different vehicle with Beth. She'd known—but well, it was one of those unfortunate circumstances knowing something didn't change a shit.

Half an hour, when she was about to lose her mind, two women came and brought them back to the parlor from their adjourned rooms. She saw no guards this time, possibly he'd sent everyone away from…privacy. She supposed she must feel glad of it. She'd started to have an inkling that whatever might happen, she would've preferred it being between only two of them. Her biggest fear was that Beth somehow would get into this too.

When they came into the parlor, he was already there, waiting in the middle of the room. His bat wasn't with him, and he'd changed his clothes, though still wore his leather jacket, this time its front open, and his hair was slightly moist too.

Fucking bastard. While he'd made her wait here, he'd taken a shower himself.

After they took two vacant seats, he wandered his gaze over all of them. The room was quiet, then Amanda knew.

The women—they had heard. And Negan had gathered them all for yet another lesson, it seemed. A blonde girl, a young blonde girl almost whimpered, bowing her head as if to hide herself, and the redhead woman with a porcelain face held her hand in silence to give her support. Amanda saw the woman's fingers tightened on the younger ones', her face set, then Amanda also knew _this_ wasn't the first time it'd happened. The wives weren't waiting one of them getting punished the first time.

Mentally, she shook her head. She wasn't a damn wife! Though as far as punishments went, she didn't know it was a good thing or not… The girls, they seemed intact. At least, from _outside_.

"Today—" Negan finally started pacing in the room, his eyes darting around them, "I learned that I was lied to." He tossed at her a look, making sure the others realize who was the reason of this little group activity, and Amanda thought it was pretty useless. Everyone already _knew_.

"You know how much I _hate_ that shit," he continued, and turned to face her openly, "But because it's your first time, Amanda," and uttered her name fully for the first time she'd known him, and Amanda wished he hadn't, "I'm gonna go easy on you. But this—this _is_ the last time."

The words brought her back memories, how the sadistic maniac had told them he was going to give them the easy way out because it was their first time and then beat Glenn to death. She almost let out a bitter, curt snort, but couldn't help the words left her mouth, "Like you did with Glenn?"

"I explained it to you before," he said back in seriousness, "We have rules for a reason. Rules are what keeps us together. What keeps this place together."

Amanda kept another bitter snicker inside. It wasn't the first time she'd heard those words. It felt like Dawn was talking to them again, throwing at them excuses for the things she had done, and Amanda hadn't bought them then and she wasn't buying now, either. "_We_ are what keep us together," she said back, shaking her head, "what keeps our homes together, not the rules."

Perhaps Rick was even right. Home wasn't just a place. Rick had lost prison and made himself another home…but…but she wanted to have a _place_—somewhere they all could settle down and take roots—be connected—tied to…not drifting away. She wanted to feel rooted down to earth—with Rick, with her family, have a place, not live like nomads, wanderers, and she did—she had found her place—with Rick.

"If we don't have rules all would turn to chaos," he continued, "We'd just live like savages out there."

She couldn't help herself any longer, "Says the man who walks around with a barbed baseball bat soaked with blood…"

His eyes stared at her a long, a long moment, then he turned to the redhead woman, "Frankie—love, take Amanda to my quarters."

She shook her head, and rose to her feet, "No. I'm not your wife," she told him coldly, "Do whatever you want, but don't treat me as one of your wives."

Negan gave her a snicker, shaking his head, "You _don't_ want me to do that, doll."

The blonde girl gave out a whimper and Amanda felt a shiver run through her spine even though she had no idea what he was talking about, but inclinations were quite clear. Wives got it easier than _others_. The women also looked unscarred too, and she—she had to protect her babies. She had to suck it up—swallowed her pride. This was no time.

She'd told Rick to suck it up—told him to kneel, and he had. He'd knelt.

It looked it was her time now.

Her eyes skipped at Beth for a second, and in her eyes, she saw worry, too. At least, she was safe from this. At least, she wasn't going to be punished because of her…disobedience. Negan had a way to use people they cared into submission, and Amanda didn't want to make that choice.

No. She wouldn't.

She gave a curt nod then, turning away from him. The redhead came to her side quickly, and touching her elbow lightly, she directed her out of the room. They walked silently in the corridor, and she opened the door. Amanda walked in.

There were still no guards, the corridor was deserted, and it sent another shiver over her spine, like she was going to the devil's lair. The woman gave her a look and let out a sigh. "Make it easy for yourself," the woman then told her, words placid, "Just give him what he wants."

Amanda almost let out a rough laughter, hearing the words. It was—it was exactly the same thing she'd have advised to anyone in her position, but once again she realized living and imagining things were far from each other.

The woman closed the door after then on her, and Amanda almost dropped on her knees and started to cry. Whatever was going to happen, she really just wanted it to happen now, before she broke down.

She couldn't be this frightened—she—she'd survived beatings before—years, years ago, in one of the foster homes, and couldn't have sit on her ass for a full week… But after everything had happened, after she'd seen what Negan was capable of…after what life she'd had with Rick…

Perhaps she'd really gotten soft.

She gave herself a little shake of head, and tried to prepare herself, then did what she always did, and tried to get her facts straight.

Forcing himself on her wasn't Negan style. She'd heard from Cherry that rape was against the rules at Sanctuary too and was severely punished, and wives always first gave their consents, coerced or not. No. She hadn't been afraid in the cells they've gotten raped by him. It was others. Not him. So, rape was out of the question.

He was most probably going to beat her. All things considered; it wasn't the beating itself that she was afraid of the most. She could deal with pain. She would hate it, but she could work through it. It was him, his desire to have submission—wanting to break people so he could get them pliable.

His words from the morning passed over her mind, and her stomach twisted into knots, bile returning to her… _Lay you over his knees…?_

No way.

No fucking way.

When that had happened the last time, she had been a child, an eight-year-old girl! And it'd been fucking awful even _then_.

And her babies… She couldn't take any severe beatings—the last time she'd gotten kicked, she'd lost her baby! And, for god's sake, who would beat a pregnant woman anyways?

Negan. For starters.

Just as the thought came to her, the bastard walked into the room. Amanda spun around and faced with him as he gave her a look. "Twitchy?" he asked, laughing silently.

Sick bastard. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying doing this to her.

"My face—" she sputtered out then, "You—you can beat me at my face. Nowhere else, please." She pleaded, closing her eyes, "I—I'm pregnant."

He shook his head, "No. Not your face—your face is very pretty. I like it," he said matter of fact, "But don't worry, your babies will be fine. The doctor will check you, too, after we're done." The words turned in her mind as she swallowed, her throat dry. Without another word, he then walked to his chiffonier and opened the first drawer. When he came back, his hand was holding a black multi-tailed whip.

Her eyes widened seeing the fucking thing, and she took a few steps back…her heart galloping at her chest. No.

She remembered the whimpering blonde girl and wondered if this was the reason…that she knew what happened in his quarters. "You see, I could just use my hand too, but I'm not allowed to touch you," he told her mockingly, "But if you ask me—ask me _nicely_—" he trailed off, looking at her expectedly.

Asked him what? She stared at him in silence. He shook his head. "Well, your choice. But it'd really better for you if you just lay over my knees."

She still stared at him. "Go over the bed, and bend down, Amanda."

She started shivering.

No… No… It was wrong. Them like this… She…she couldn't do this.

"Go on now…" he ordered her.

She swallowed. S-she could do this—she told herself. She could close her eyes and sucked it up. She could.

It still was going to be her ass, she knew then. The last time she'd been kicked, it was at her groin, and he'd said—he'd said he would keep her babies safe, and even though she could never trust anything that came out of that mouth, that had to be true. She just had to do this. Get over it. It was whipping, she could take it. The alternative wasn't an option. She could not just lay over his knees and ask him to slap her ass!

She could not!

Never.

She was tough. She could handle this.

He was doing this to break her. She was not going to give him the satisfaction. He didn't only want to teach her a lesson, he wanted her to ask for it!

_I ask for it._

Goddammit! She shouldn't have done it. She just shouldn't have done it.

Letting out a shaking breath with a glare, she turned around on her heels, and moved to bed.

She bent down on the bed as instructed, her hands placed down on the mattress, and tried not to think the scene she was giving him behind. Then he said, "Gather your skirts up over your waist."

Silently, as her tears filled in her eyes, she bit her lips to stop them. "Amanda."

Letting out shaking breath, she pulled her hands back, still standing on her feet, bent down, and started pulling her dress upward with her trembling hands.

Sick…it was all sick… She wondered if this was why they'd also given them stockings and G-strings, and heels, as if…as if…he knew he would've had her like this. When she was done, she pressed her hands down on the bed again, and waited.

She—she was just going to pretend he was Rick. Rick—Rick was going to punish her because she had been a _bad_ girl… But…she—she wasn't a bad girl. Never. She was a good girl! And Rick—Rick never punished her. Even when he was mad with her—even when they had a fight, he didn't punish her. He took her in his arms, kissed her shoulder lightly, pulled her to his chest closer, tightening his arms over her waist…but didn't punish her, he'd told her so… _And I'm not punishing you…_

He—he tied her hands and fuck her brains out not to punish her—he did it—he did it—her thoughts stopped, tears filling more… She had no idea—had no idea why they did it—why she wanted him to do it…want him to fuck her like this…. She just _wanted_ it. It made her feel safe, whole—fulfilled, giving herself to him completely…yielding to him.

"Fuck me good! What a scenery!" His voice interrupted, her confused thought and emotions, and she just wanted this done…finished, so she could—move on, forget about it.

"Now, tell me, Rick has ever fucked you like this—" the damn bastard asked, tauntingly, and Amanda just let the words wash over her. "He doesn't know what he's missing."

She briefly wondered if this was about _her_—or about Rick again—because she was his wife. She heard a whistle in the air, then it cracked on her skin… and she thought no more.

She just screamed.

# # #

When the screams came from outside, Beth started crying, hiding her face behind her hands.

The redhead woman found her then, Beth saw through her fingers, "She should've known better than to provoke him like that," the woman remarked thoughtful, voice placid.

Beth shook her head, "This—he does this to you, doesn't he?" she asked in challenge, lifting her head up.

The woman stared at her, and for a second after agreed, "When you break his rules."

Beth tilted her head at Amber as Amanda still screamed somewhere out there, "Like she did…?" she asked back, "He beat her too, right?"

"Yes," the woman answered back firmly, "Amber was lucky. It could've been worse. She cheated on him with someone else. The guy didn't escape that lucky. He got the iron."

"What's that?" Beth asked, even not knowing if she wanted to know.

"The usual punishment if you're not a wife, sweetie. He burns the half of your face with an iron. So, yeah, your friend made the right choice."

Beth listened to the screams. "He's hurting her. She's got twins." The redhead woman's lips twitched. Beth looked at her, "We _should_ do something!"

They should! They—they couldn't just listen to it helplessly. She touched at her cheek, felt the scar over her cheek. But the redhead shook her head. "There's nothing to do. You both need to accept it."

# # #

She heard the whistling sound in the air before the whip cracked at her flaming skin another time, and screamed, "Stop! Please, god, stop!"

It did. And she let out sob breath out, gulping through her dry throat.

She was burning—burning with pain—aching, sweat running through her whole body, her legs trembling, she was almost laying on her stomach on the bed now, her hands tangled around the sheets, twisting them with pain each time the whip flogged at her ass, and something in her groins—something in her groins had started twisting.

True to his words, the damn bastard was careful, the whip never went below her ass—he just kept flogging her cheeks, keeping his promise… But she couldn't take it anymore.

She just couldn't. Just wanted it to stop… It was hurting….so fucking much…and her babies…her babies… "Please…" she breathed out.

He leaned down toward, "Please what?"

She closed her eyes, resting her elbows on the bed, her bowed head touching at the mattress, "Please, stop."

"No—we're not done yet." Another whistle and crack…

"I learned!" she cried out, the force of the whip forcing her further on her elbows, her legs buckling, "I fucking learned my bloody lessons! Stop now!"

"No—look at that language. I don't think you've learned it well—" he said, and the fucking thing landed on her ass another time. She howled another time.

Another whistle—another scream—another crack—

"DO IT!" she shouted.

He stopped, hearing the words, and she knew then…this was what he'd been waiting, from the very beginning. Flogging her ass with a whip wasn't her punishment. _This_—this was her punishment. Making her beg for it. _I ask for it._

"Do it—" she whispered then, not caring anymore. She just wanted it to stop. Give him what he wants, in her mind Joan told her or was it that redhead woman, or was it her?

"Do what?"

She twisted her head back between her elbows and looked at him as he stood towering beside her at the edge of the bed. "You—you can touch me—"

He looked at her back, demanding. "Tell me."

Her tears fell. She'd been already crying—or sweating she didn't know… everything was under a blur, and she didn't fucking care anymore. Even her damn pride. So, she opened her mouth and told him, "I—let me lay over your knees."

He _smiled_ at her. And it hurt her as much as the cracks of the whips. "You didn't say the magic word."

Her tears fastened… "Please…" and she let out in a so low whisper she wasn't even sure it was audible, "Please, let me lay over your knees."

There she had done. Game over. She turned ahead again and bowed her head. She was exposed, her ass sticking up in the air, getting flogged with a whip, and she just had asked a disgusting man to take her over his knees and used his hands instead.

She heard the bed crack slightly and realized he had finally sat down beside her. "Come over her then doll," he told her, holding her hand, "Get on your hands and knees on the floor."

Her eyes half closed, not looking at him, she twisted as he settled her between his open legs on her hands and knees, her stomach resting over his leg. "It wasn't so hard, see?" he asked, laughing at her, and a slap—a light one—almost playful landed on her burning ass.

Now, he was just mocking her. She wondered if it was really her punishment, for Joan, for letting things go that far—she wondered if Gorman had ever lay her over his knees and beat her…just like Amanda was getting beaten now. Was this what the other woman had had to live through while Amanda had turned her head to the other side and told Joan to suck it up?

Maybe she really needed this punishment—needed someone to teach her how this felt like—what she had put through those women, maybe that was even why she wanted Rick to fuck her like that—because she was a bad girl—dirty—even Rick hadn't thought first she was a dirty cop?

She shook her head mentally. No—No—She wasn't bad! She was good! She'd never been dirty, not one shred of it! Never.

"Frankie!" Negan suddenly shouted before he slapped her another time—and—and all thoughts left her.

No! No!

No one could see her like this… No! She—she could—she could go through it, but only herself… Granted, they must've heard her screams, but she didn't want anyone see her like _this_!

She tried to run away—stand up, but he pulled her closer over his lap, resting her upper body over the bed, twisting her, and _pinched_ her ass. "Hold still. We're gonna take a photo."

She shook her head as he pushed her ass over his knee even up in the air, moving her over the bed, "Don't—please. Isn't this enough?" she asked, turning her head aside back to him, "I'm already on my knees."

Frankie opened the door, and seeing the scene faltered at her steps at the doorsteps. "Take the camera and took a photo of her," he ordered at the other woman

"Yes, Negan," was the only answer placid woman gave before she walked and opened another drawer. She took the Polaroid machine and raised it as Amanda turned back, and stared ahead at the wall, her shoulders shaking with her sobs… She couldn't help it anymore.

"Amanda, doll, look at the camera—" Negan told her softly, and his hand started playing with her hair.

She didn't. She wanted to toss her head to push off his hand off her hair, but she didn't, and she didn't know if it was because she was afraid of another punishment or because she didn't care.

The thought made her cry even harder. "Amanda, look at the camera. Now."

His voice was sterner, and tears flooding over her cheeks, this time she did, she twisted aside and looked at the camera as the redhead woman took her photo.

"Give it to me," Negan ordered to the woman and slowly the woman walked toward them and handed it to him. "Okay, you can go now."

After her, Negan laughed silently. "Do you know how many times she ended up like you are right now, too, doll?" he suddenly told her, and for a second Amanda couldn't even understand, then realized he was talking about the redhead woman.

She didn't say anything, though. She didn't even know what she was supposed to say. He was having his fun, and Amanda was just his plaything, his…doll. He leaned over her, leaning downward and his hand went over her face, showing her the picture. "Look at yourself, doll."

She turned her eyes ahead again, stared at the wall. She didn't want to see it. She…she couldn't see it… she couldn't see herself like this. This…this wasn't her. "I said _look_."

Slowly, she raised her eyes, and looked at it. Her face—her teary eyes—the broken, shamed expression as she twisted her neck aside and looked at the camera, her dress over her waist, her ass up in the air towards camera over his knee, with stockings and all, like a porn movie star…

She started crying openly, her body uncontrollably shaken, sobs coming out broken.

This—this broken woman wasn't her… Couldn't be….

She—she was…

Suddenly his hands pulled her up and rested her completely over his knees over the bed. She didn't even fight with him, just let him handle her body. His hands went over her ass and he lightly touched at her skin, but this time, instead of slapping her, he started caressing her aching, burning skin.

"Frankie was just like you, too, once," he told her, his palm running over her, "It took a while to tame her. But look how happy she's now. How well-cared she is. She begged for it, too, like you did."

She silently cried as he spoke, trembling… Rick… she passed in her mind, she just wanted Rick to take her away and make her forget everything.

"I'm sorry I had to do this, but you had to realize. Women like you—I know your kinds. Hard shells, soft hearts…" Dawn's words echoed in her… _Hard shells, soft hearts… _And was she, wasn't she? "Soft but _empty_…" he continued, "You feel there's an emptiness inside you nothing can fill. Is this why you wanted to put a baby in there? To fill your emptiness, doll?"

His hand dropped at his side, he stopped touching her. Amanda just was crying now, listening to the words, laying over his knees, trying to oppose him, but couldn't finding the words. "Women like you need men like me to take care of you, to fuck your brains out, to make you whole. You hate to admit it—hate that you want it, but you do, you want it desperately. You can't help yourself. You want to yield. You're begging for it. Begging for a man to take you hard, fill your every emptiness inside—make you forget everything."

Her cries turned into helpless sobs after that, like someone had cut her open and lay all of her inside out and she tried to move away from him, try to run away from the words, but he caught her tightly, his fingers digging at her arms, and turned her around to face him. "I know you think Rick is that man—" He stared at her crying eyes as he kept her over his lap, her dress still over her waist, her legs over the bed, trapped, "But he _isn't_," he spat, "He's weak. _I_ took you from him, and he couldn't do anything. He can't make you whole, baby."

_Baby_—the word snapped something inside her. There had been only _one_ man, only one man who had called her baby—the only man she'd ever let do it, call her baby. Rick. She was only Rick's baby.

His eyes flashed over her mind, electric blue—fucking her hard and good, blowing her mind—making her forget anything—then he smiled at her—warmly, hoping Judith in his arms, lighting passing his fingers over her fingertips…

She then knew.

Her cries ceasing, she looked at him with glazed yet clear eyes, a serenity finding her, "I'm not your baby," she told him calmly, "And you don't know any shit about me or _him_."

He smiled at her, "I can make people bow to you, Amanda, make them fall on their knees at your feet." He leaned toward her closer, almost kissing her, "I can make you my queen."

She smiled back at him, shaking her head. It was so clear to her. So fucking clear. She raised her hand, held his neck, and raised herself toward him, "I don't want to be a queen—" she whispered out at him, her lips hovering over his ears. Amanda had never had big ambitions, but the only thing she'd ever wanted was a family. Holding on him, she brought herself over him even closer, "And you. disgust. me."

She grasped his head, her hands like clamps at both side of his head, then she sunk her teeth in his neck.

A beast, or Rick, was roaring inside her, blood and flesh, and skin filling into her mouth, and the sick bastard shocked and frozen was trashing in her grip, but Amanda didn't let go—only sunk her teeth deeper then yanked her head off, tearing his damn throat off, blood sputtering out at her face, blood and pieces of flesh running out of her mouth over her chin and neck. She spat it out at his face.

Somehow she thought it fitting—so fitting. All these violent delights having a violent end.

She pushed them back on the bed and mounted over his hips. Quickly she moved her hand to his mouth to silence his gaging groans as he slowly died under her.

His futile resistance ceased as his blood ran out of him together with his life.

Amanda stared at him, the taste of blood and flesh still over her tongue, her body shaking uncontrollably over the macabre she'd created.

Her stomach churning, she then vomited, and fell on the dead body, a darkness falling over her.

But she did. She'd killed him. She had kept her promise.

* * *

_All right! Finally, I'm done. Since I've started this story, Amanda was slowly getting to this point-breaking apart-then sort of having an epiphany, and challenging her inner Rick, ripping some throat, just like he did, and of course her telling Negan "you disgust me." In fact, the whole between Negan and Amanda had built itself around that line. There're a lot of recurrent themes here, her distorted self-image, guilt, and vice versa, but I'm beyond tired right now to yammer about them. :)_  
_So, I'm gonna leave them to you._  
_Writing this chapter was very hard, as it really disturbed me, as it should've, too, yet still it had to be provocative at same time, because there was also an undercurrent sexuality, especially with everything going on what Negan told Amanda about herself. I still tried to keep it as tactful as possible. Hope managed it._

_On the good news, the bastard is dead! Frankly, I can't never understand why people liked Negan this much. He's an awful human being. It's not even because he kills people, Rick kills people too, that's the reality of their world, as sad as it is, but Negan enjoys what he does, enjoy violence, does it even when he doesn't need to. Which is disgusting. Period._


	22. Chapter 22

**Amanda and Beth friendships fans, this's our chapter :)**

XXI.

After the screams stopped and silence came, Beth started feeling even worse. She lifted her head, listening to the utter silence, her ears trying to pick up something—anything. Nothing. There was nothing to hear. "Is it finished?" she asked, turning her head to Frankie, "Is he done?"

The woman's face had gotten even paler after she'd returned from the room, her hands having a slight shake, and Beth had asked her what Negan had wanted, had asked what he'd been doing to Amanda, but the woman had shook her head and only said the sick man had wanted a photo of her friend.

Beth could still remember the way Negan had ordered Glenn's photos to be taken afterward, and she'd trembled even worse, her eyes tearing more… "Why didn't they still come back?"

Frankie gave her a look after exchanging a quick one with her own people, and sighed, "He's probably fucking her now, Beth," the woman finally said slowly.

Beth shook her head, "No." No… Amanda would've never let that happen, "You don't know Amanda. She would never."

"And you don't know Negan," one of the Frankie's friends, with brown hair, countered, "He's got his kinks out of this. He beats you first, then caresses you, talks you soft, then fucks you."

Amanda was right. This—this was a nightmare. But Amanda—no. Never.

She couldn't sit there any longer. She—she had to something. _We should do something_! echoed in her mind… They should do something. She stood up. She didn't know what she was doing, she just had to do something.

"Beth—" Frankie whispered after her, but she didn't stop, kept walking.

The corridor was deserted, there was no one around. Negan must've sent everyone away for his…play. The bile came to her throat, and she pushed the thoughts assaulting at her—Dawn and the picture—her hand rising—and Noah—the way he looked after he'd taken the blame for her…

No. This was wrong. Wrong. She stopped in front of Negan's quarters, and tried to listen.

Still no sound. She pressed her ear on the door to hear better, the side of her face completely pressed on the wooden surface, but still couldn't hear anything.

Beth thought about it for a second or so before she made up her mind. Then with a trembling hand, she grabbed the knob and cracked the door open.

Over the crack, Beth peeked inside—then her eyes caught the bed. Her breath stopped—her eyes widening.

Blood—the bed was a pool of blood.

And Amanda was laying over him, straddling his hips, her legs at both sides of the man, and her dress was pulled over her waist—and up over the stockings over her legs, her bottom, almost naked with her fancy G-string, was covered with angry, bloodied slashes down over her hips. She could even see them from afar from the door. Her eyes filled with tears, seeing her friend like that but there was something even more wrong—the way she was sprawled over him listlessly in the bed… so much blood…

No… No…

Opening the door further, Beth quickly slipped inside, and closing it she rushed at the bed. As she did, her eyes caught the whip on the floor, her breath gagging at her throat, seeing it—and her steps fastened—

And stopped dead in her steps when she saw them fully, pressing her hand to muffle out her sudden sobs, tears almost broken over her eyes.

Negan—Negan was dead—his throat—his throat was having a big tear—as if…as if someone had ripped it off. Her stomach twisting, Beth realized what had happened.

Amanda—Amanda had ripped off his throat, like…like Rick had done.

But she— She launched herself over the bed, crawling on her knees toward them over the blood covered sheets and pushed her hair away from her neck where she had rested the side of her head at the man's chest. Her face—her mouth—her neck—everything was covered with dark blood. Beth even saw small pieces of flesh around the corner of her mouth, and saw vomit too, mixed with blood…in her hair and on her skin…everywhere blood and vomit. Praying silently inside without words, Beth tried to feel her friend's pulse…

She couldn't be dead… Her friend couldn't be dead… _Please, don't let her be death!_

Not like this—she couldn't have died this—over a dead body of a sick man…Momentarily she remembered the elevator shaft—the dead bodies under her—no…no…they shouldn't die here… They—they should die within the arms of the men they loved, circled with friends… after they had birthdays, holidays, and summer picnics…

Not like this! Please not like this!

She didn't want to lose anyone else. They had already lost so many people…

And how many days had passed without an accident now?

"Please—" Beth whispered out, then slowly, slowly fluttering, Beth felt it. Her pulse—beating under her skin.

Relief washed over all of her being, and she raised up her head… _Thank you…thank you…_

Quickly Beth started pulling her away from the dead body. Amanda had lost consciousness over a ticking bomb.

Briefly she thought what would've happened if Beth hadn't decided to check her out—hadn't come—hadn't found her… She pushed the thought away.

They—they needed to get out of here. Negan was dead. Amanda had killed him. They needed to get out of here. Now.

How? Beth asked herself then.

She—she had to wake up Amanda first. She couldn't carry her. Amanda—she had to wake up. Beth rested her at the edge of the bed and started shaking her shoulders. "Amanda! Amanda! Wake up—!"

She didn't. Beth shook her friend even harder, her tiny figure rocking with the force of her movements, "Amanda! Wake up…" Still no response… "Amanda! Please…."

She must've been in shock or something. Her eyes wandered around the room, and they fell on a photo at the bed. Beth reached out for it. When she saw the picture, her tears finally broke loose, and she started crying. It must've been the photo Negan had asked Frankie to take and this…this was what Amanda had gone thorough…humiliation after humiliation—

She threw the photo away as if it burned her—and it had, in a way it had, and her gaze moving downward, she saw her friend's lower body closer; the lacerated skin—angry lashes, bloodied… This… this was going to leave scars on Amanda, just like Daryl's back. She was going to have them on her skin for the rest of her life, but Beth always knew it was nothing next to the scars that his broken back had left on Daryl inside, just like Dawn's scar over her cheek. The pain had faded, but memory had stayed.

It pained her now seeing Amanda was going to have these memories, too, as if she wasn't already scarred enough. As if none of them was already scarred enough.

Her eyes caught the whip on the ground, the vile thing—nine tails with knots at each end…to scar them more, to hurt them more, to break them more, and with all the hatred and fury filling in her veins, Beth turned and kicked the cursed thing away.

No!

Their life was _not_ going to end like this! Scarred, broken, in a pool of blood and vomit, next a bastard's body, away from their loved ones, away from the men they loved. Not if she had a say in it. She felt the fierce determination she'd found inside her at the elevator shaft filling her up again—the will to live—the will to survive…to fight…to get back home.

They were going to be happy. They were going to have birthdays, holidays, and summer picnics, and when the death came, it was going to be inside their bed, peacefully, with the men they loved, with their children… Children… Amanda was going to have her babies, and so Daryl and Beth. She decided it. She'd been so afraid before, so—so afraid, but she'd made up her mind. They were going to have a baby, too. She wanted it. She wanted it with all of her being.

They were going back home. Not a whole seven nation army could hold them back now!

She leaned over her friend's consciousness body and shook her again, "Amanda! We're going home. Wake up now!" She had to wake up, she had to… They _also_ needed a plan. But first Amanda had to come to.

Then Beth pulled back an inch and slapped her friend right across her face. "Wake up." she whispered fiercely, and another slap, "Wake up now!"

Her face tossed aside, and Amanda gave out a low whimper, and Beth felt relief washing her over through her determination. She leaned over her friend closer and held her cheek over blood and vomit at her face, "Amanda, honey, you have to wake up. We need to go home."

"Home—" Amanda whispered out, her eyes fluttering.

"Yes. Home."

She opened her eyes, glazed eyes trying to focus on her, "Beth…?"

"Yes. It's me—" Beth held her hand and started pulling her up, "Are you all right?"

In answer, Amanda just stared at her—her eyes still unfocused, staying up where Beth sat her at the edge of the bed, and whispered almost inaudible, "I wanna go home."

"Yes, we are," Beth told her, "But I need you up." She knelt at the older woman's feet and tried to pull her dress down over her legs again… as Amanda didn't do anything, but only let her do it.

All right! They needed a plan, a real one. Standing up, Beth tried to get the facts clear, like Amanda always did, like Daryl had told her while they were hunting. _Always be aware of your surroundings. _

Amanda—even awake, was still in shock, couldn't function properly.

And, there was a dead body in the room, a dead body that would start reanimating in any time now.

They had to get out of here before anyone understood what had exactly happened, that Amanda had killed the Savior's leader, and Beth was getting to realize that they were going to need help for that.

Giving Amanda another look, Beth made up her mind then. She bent down over her friend, and gave the older woman's hair a soft, quick kiss, "Stay here. I'm coming in a minute."

Amanda made out another whimper but didn't make further protests. Beth felt a pinch at her chest, leaving her friend behind like this, especially with a dead body, but there was no way else.

She quickly checked herself if there was blood over herself, wiping off her hands with sheet's clean parts, then walked to the door and stepped out. She ran along the empty corridor, quite grateful that there were no guards around and walked into the parlor again. Her eyes quickly found Frankie. She had no idea how many of those women they would actually trust, but Frankie—Frankie was their only chance.

"Negan's calling for you," Beth lied to the woman.

The redhead's dark blue eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she stood up a second later. When Negan asked for you, you just had to go. When the woman came to her side, they walked back together to the room.

Beth opened the door, and walked in again, and the other woman followed—and stopped dead at her tracks, seeing the scene; Amanda still sitting at the edge of the bed, her glazed eyes staring ahead at the wall, her face—mouth—her cleavage, hands… all covered with blood as Negan lay dead in a pool of blood, sheets red and tangled dropping over the floor—a scene of macabre.

Looking back at it came even to her terrifying, so Beth wasn't surprised to see the terrified, stupefied expression over the other woman's face.

Beth closed the door behind them. "Wh—what happened here?" the woman whispered out.

Beth walked beside her, "I told you she would've never let him touch her."

"She—she killed him?"

Beth nodded, "Ripped off his throat with her teeth," Beth almost snarled, "Yeah…she killed him."

The redhead's head snapped at her, "We—we need to go," Beth then told the woman, "All of us. We need to go."

Frankie shook her head, "How?"

"There must be someone who could help us here—_someone_!" Beth cried, "We need to leave this place. We don't belong here. I know what you tell yourself, I know you say there's nothing to do, but it's not true. There's still hope."

The woman gave her another look, "Do you really believe that? Do you really believe that we can escape?"

"We have to try—" Beth told her back with all the determination she felt, "I'm not letting one of them come and punish my friend again. We're leaving—" Her voice came out certain, because she was—she was certain, "No way or another."

Giving her another long look, as if she was testing her, trying to decide, the woman finally nodded. "Mark," she then remarked, "The guy Amber was fooling around. The man who got the iron for her. He's still at guard at the posts. If Amber asks him—if she asks him to come with us, he'd help us."

And now they had a hope. A plan. Beth nodded quickly.

Frankie turned around, "I'm getting them. Wait here," and with that, she left.

Staring the door after her, Beth wondered—a suspicion finding her, trusting a stranger like this—what if, what if the woman had turned with one of the guards, selling them out.

Beth shook her head. No. Frankie wasn't going to betray them. She—she could play placid, calm, but Beth had seen her hands shake after she'd come back from the room.

Seeing Amanda like that—seeing a woman like that— Amanda had looked so broken in the photo, her teary eyes carrying shame, being forced to it, exposed and humiliated, and hurt. It'd shaken the other woman, as well, and Beth wondered if the cool, aloof woman had ever had to go through that herself, too, and if Negan had a picture of her just like that…

The picture, then Beth remembered.

They couldn't leave it there. If anyone saw it—no, they were going to burn it together, like how Daryl and she had burned the ramshackle cabin and elevator shaft together, Amanda and she were going to burn that damn photo, too.

At home, when they got back to home.

She walked to pick up the photo from where she'd thrown it away just as the moment Frankie returned, with the other three of her friends.

The girls looked terrified upon seeing the scene, and Frankie quickly closed the door behind her. "Don't be afraid. It's okay. He's dead. Amanda—Amanda killed her."

Amber made out a frightened whimper, and Frankie turned to them, "Listen to me. We're going. Beth and I—we talked about it. We're going," she repeated, more to herself perhaps, Beth couldn't be sure, "But we need help. Amber—" the redhead looked at her blonde friend, "Amber, you need to talk with Mark. We need help. He can help us get through the east gate."

Frightened, Amber shook her head, "What if—what if we get caught?" the girl whispered, "I—I can't live through that again. I can't, Frankie."

"We won't," Beth assured her, "We're gonna leave this place, and we're gonna happy—You can come with us. You all can live with us." She looked at the new arrivals, "Don't—don't you want to leave this place?"

Frankie turned to Amber, "Beth is right. We can do it. When Negan will turn, and they'll understand he's dead, shit will hit the fan here. We can escape in the chaos."

"We can't wait until then here—" Tanya cut in.

Frankie nodded. "Yeah…We…" She stopped, as if thinking, "After the punishment, it's expected to see the doctor. He takes care of us. If we take her infirmary, no one will question it. Almost everyone knows she's to be punished tonight now. Negan cleared off the guards from our corridors because of that. He likes to be alone when he punishes us."

Well, it hadn't worked on him well this time. But for them, it was a blessing. If there had been guards in their quarters, things would've been a hell. She nodded, but her eye skipping at Amanda, she frowned, "We can't make her walk around the compound like this," she remarked, eying her wild figure all covered blood and vomit, "We—we need to redress her. Can you find a dress?"

Frankie turned to Tanya, "Tanya, get our quarters and find one of my dresses. Talk to no one and be careful." The woman then turned to her other friends too, "Amber, Nicole—you go and find Mark and wait for us there. We'll come to find you when the confusion starts."

They all left, and Beth started going back to the bed. Frankie turned to Amanda, as well, looking at her sitting still figure, eyes still looking ahead, she asked, "Is she in shock?" Beth nodded. "Did—did she really do it? Rip his throat off?"

Beth looked at the dead body, and the tear at his neck, "Yeah."

"She will be okay?" the woman asked in a whisper.

Beth stood at the edge of the bed, her eyes turning to her friend, "Yes. She will. When we return to home."

The other woman nodded. Beth leaned over the dead body and started checking his waists, looking for guns or knives. "Can you find a sponge or something to clean her?" she asked Frankie.

The woman nodded. Beth found a gun and a knife at Negan's waist, and started looking to find something to tie the gun around her thigh. Her dress had nothing to hide something, so she had to tie it around her upper leg like women did in the movies.

She walked to the whip seeing it at the floor, and with a grimace took the vile thing and cut it loose with the knife. She started tying together each rope together, her fingers feeling the red wetness over the length of them but mostly over the knots the lashes had—Amanda's blood. Her eyes teared again, this time with fury and anger.

She made a rope enough long to tie around her thigh, and putting her foot at the bed, she started tying the gun around her inner leg, binding it a couple of time, tighter and tighter, so the thing couldn't drop off if they needed to run.

When she was done, Frankie returned from the bathroom as well, her hands having two washcloths. Beth took one of it from her, and together they started cleaning Amanda.

For a split of second, Amanda's eyes flickered toward them, but she didn't do anything else, just let them clean her, still sitting listlessly at the bed, catatonic, like a stone gargoyle.

Beth rubbed the blood over her mouth and chin, as Frankie worked on her hands, and Tanya came back, another black dress hanging over her arm, a dress of flared skirts, adorned with lace. It was different than what Amanda was wearing, and Beth felt glad of the flared skirts, because she knew when Amanda had started coming to herself, even that fitting fabric over her bottom was going to hurt her like hell.

Kneeling in front of her, Beth started rising the fitting dress over her hips again—and Amanda whimpered softly as she did—still hurting through her catatonic state, "Shhs—it's okay. We got you, honey—" she whispered at her as Amanda leaned over her chest. With much difficulty, and with Amanda's soft whimpers, Beth managed to take the damn dress off her, and Frankie and Tanya cleaned the rest of her body quickly and pushed the clean dress over her head.

When they were done, they all took a step back from her, and looked at her. She looked clean once again—her face pale as ghost, and her expression vacant as much as her eyes, but Beth didn't think it would've been a problem, because like Frankie had said everyone knew now Rick Grimes's wife was going to be punished tonight.

Beth was sure the damn bastard made a point in that. Beth looked at her friend again, her chest aching, and her eyes caught her hair. It was still tangled with blood and vomit, not as bad as her face, but there were still there.

Beth gave a sigh. "Her hair… We have to wash it, as well."

She wondered how long Amanda had actually passed out—she was remembering not hearing screams for more than fifteen minutes—so it had to be happened somewhere around then and that made it almost half of an hour now.

Coming back from death differed for everyone, sometimes it took hours, sometimes only a few minutes, so in any case—they had to be prepared now.

She turned to Frankie, "Tanya and I will wash her hair in the bathroom—you stay at guard over him, okay?" She turned around to find something to deal with him in case that he turned, and her eyes caught the baseball bat—grimacing, she walked to it with a purposeful pace.

Taking it from the wall, where it stood rested, she gave it to the redhead. "Just smash the bastard's head if he come backs."

Quite poetic, all things considered.

Beth walked then back to Amanda, and leaning down to take her arm, supporting her weight on her shoulder, she pulled Amanda up at her feet.

Amanda swayed on her feet, and Tanya held her from her other side, then they stared walking her to the bathroom. Goodness, this was going to be hard. Beth thought for a second taking off her shoes, the heels were making it even harder for her, but the wives always wore shoes with heels, no matter what. She could not walk in Sanctuary in boots. She didn't even know if they would find boots for her. She had no idea where their own stuff was now—and remembering her cowboy boots Beth felt a pang of guilt, she'd been having her boots since the very beginning.

When they walked into the bathroom, they moved to the bathtub. Beth put her hand on her friend's back and tried to bend her down over the tub so they could wash her hair—but Amanda whimpered out, suddenly shaking her head agitated. Flickering her eyes at the older woman, Beth saw her vacant expression turned into a terrified one as Beth forced her to bend down.

Suddenly Beth understood, tears threating her again…

"Amanda, honey, it's me—Beth—" she told her slowly, "We have to wash your hair. Could you please bend down so we can do it? It's okay. I'm here—it's okay." Beth slowly lowered her on her knees on the ground as she talked, Amanda still making another whimper, and her chest ached so badly seeing her like this, Beth wanted to go back and smashed the bastard's head with his bat.

She made Amanda bow her head inside the tub and took the shower head's cord and started washing her hair quickly. They rinsed the blood and other stuff from her curls and put a towel on her.

They returned to the room. Beth quickly started blow-drying her hair with the towel, and wanted to comb her hair too, but Frankie shook her head. "Leave it like that. We gotta go now."

Beth knew the woman had a point. They—they had to leave, get her away from here. They need to fing themselves a sanctuary in the infirmary until all hell broke loose. But they were going to be out soon—and the winter air was still so cold to wander around with wet dripping hair.

But they got no choice else, either.

Tanya opened the door for her, and entering her elbow from each side, they started making her walk out. The corridors were still deserted, and they dragged Amanda forcefully, their heels echoing at the floor as Amanda walked on them with difficulty, stumbling on her feet.

They stopped for a second at the main entrance of their living quarters before they walked out of the Sanctuary's public spaces. Beth let out a deep sigh, and exchanged a look with Frankie, and nodded, "Come on, let's do it."

Tanya pushed the door open, and they emerged out.

The first guards were a few feet away from the gate, two of retinues of Amanda, Beth recognized. The man gave them a long look as they approached, seizing Amanda up and down, and upon seeing her stumbling, broken figure they started snickering silently, and one of them muttered, turning to his friend as they passed them, "Oh boy, Negan did it good this time…she ain't gon' sit on her ass two weeks at least…wanna bet?"

With the corner of her eyes, Beth saw tears slipped off Amanda's eyes. "Don't listen them, honey…Don't listen to them…" Beth whispered at her friend, leaning toward her ear, "We're going home."

"Home…" Amanda whispered back.

There were some pitying looks and ashamed running away seeing them walking in the corridors, forcefully holding Amanda at her feet, but it was mostly snickering and laughs, giving her those looks, and each time Beth leaned in on her, swallowing through a heavy lump over her throat, telling her they were going back home.

And each time, she whispered back the same, "Home…"

When they finally got the infirmary, Beth wanted to fall on her knees and pray crying. This—this _was_ a nightmare… She wished Amanda had been really out of consciousness, not having to live through this, not having to listen all these snickers or seeing those pitying gazes. She wished they'd never been here, never had seen these people, never had left their home. Never.

They walked into the infirmary, and for all the good and sacred, it wasn't Doctor Harlan, but his big brother at the duty. If he'd been the doctor—if it'd been the man who had betrayed them, Beth didn't know how Amanda would've reacted.

At their arrival, the doctor rushed at them quickly and pointed at the examination gurney. They lay her over there carefully, on her stomach. The doctor nodded then, "I—I was told tonight she would come. I was expecting her."

Beth nodded. "She's…she's in pain and shock. Can you give her something?"

If she could walk without help, it would've been really great. Soon they were going out, and outside was as dangerous as this place. Especially at nights. The woods—walkers were everywhere, and they only got a gun. She hoped at least this Mark had a gun as well and was good with it.

Amanda needed something. Hell, if she started to be her usual kickass self, it wouldn't be bad either. She was a police officer, had been trained for this. Beth—Beth was just going along—Amanda—Amanda would've planned something, a real plan.

She pushed the thought away. Amanda—her friend—needed her now. She was going to save her. They were going back home. She would fight them all, if necessary. But they were leaving.

But the doctor shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'll give her antibiotics for infections, but painkillers aren't allowed for punishments."

Beth shook her head, angered, this was wrong! All of it. Wrong! Twisted! Vile! "She's suffering!"

"She's _supposed_ to," the doctor answered slowly, "I'm sorry. It's the rules. If I break them, _I'm_ getting punished."

For a moment or so, Beth thought of pulling out the gun and threatened the doctor, but Frankie cut in before she could do anything, "Yes, doctor, we know. Beth is just worried. Please give her antibiotics."

The doctor nodded, as Beth exchanged a look with Frankie, a long look, then she turned her away. She—they had to work though it. Amanda was tough. She was going to handle it. If they—they acted early, they would fuck it up. They couldn't risk it.

The doctor lifted her flared skirts and seeing Amanda's bottom made her blood boil in her veins again. She forced herself to stay calm—not yet, not yet. It wasn't still the time. Amanda also needed to get treatment. If her scars got infected, she would've gotten blood-poison. And—and she was pregnant… even the poisoning wouldn't have been fatal to her, for the babies—Mentally, Beth shook her head. She needed treatment.

The doctor washed her skin first with antiseptic and put on some light bandages to cover the open scars, then made a shot of antibiotics through her arm and covered her back.

The doctor then turned and walked back one of his drawers and pulled out a couple of pills and antiseptics. "She has to take these in every eight hours." He showed them antibiotics and raised a bottle of antiseptic and a wrap of clean bandages in his other hand, "And wash and change her bandages every twelve hours. We can start taking off bandages after the fifth day, but until then let her keep it, even if it hurts and itches. You have to keep it clean."

Nodding, Beth took them, grateful. "If she starts running a fever—" the doctor started, but a sudden sound erupted outside, and sirens go off too—and Beth understood it'd started.

The doctor opened the door and looked outside as Beth and Frankie took Amanda off the gurney and started carrying her out. "We—we need to turn to our quarters. We're not allowed to be out when sirens blast," Frankie said, and Beth wondered if it was a lie or not.

Not that it made any difference.

All around them was in chaos, people started darting at every direction—the lambs at the walls flashing red as the sirens filled the air.

And no one seemed to give them a shit as they walked away from their living quarters towards the east gate.

Beth wondered how long their luck would've kept going before someone realized Negan had been killed by Amanda—it wouldn't have taken long, and they needed to get outside before that happened.

Even Amanda had started walking a bit faster, still stumbling at her feet, but faster. She didn't know it was because of the medicine she'd been given, or because somehow sirens had managed to get through her almost catatonic state, but Beth was damn glad. "Beth—" Amanda whispered out over the sirens, leaning down toward her, "Home…"

"Yes—honey," she told her friend, "We're going home. We're going to Rick and Daryl," she said, "We're going to sleep with them tonight."

She made out a whimper again, and gave a little shake of head, as if—as if she wanted to say something, "Home—" she started but arriving the east gate, they ushered at it before she could continue.

A man—a man with half of his face burned— open the door of his little cabin—and darting looks at around, he took them inside. Inside, Amber and Nicole were there, too, waiting as Frankie had ordered.

"We need to leave now," Beth told them quickly, "We need to leave before they come to shut all gates."

Frankie nodded. Beth took Amanda's elbow again, "Ready to see Rick again?" she asked, giving her friend an encouraging smile.

Amanda gave her a look, a bit more lucid, Beth realized with happiness, "Beth…" Yes, they were going home… they were going to the men they loved, to their families, and they were going to put all this nightmare behind themselves, they were going to burn them all—

Beth stopped, her mind flying back at Negan's room… The photo! The damn photo. It'd been in her hand when Frankie had come back, but while dealing with Amanda, changing her clothes, she'd put it down on the bed, then forgot it there!

She'd forgotten the damn thing back there! "Her photo!" she turned to Frankie, "I—left it back there!"

"We can't go back!" the redhead quickly said, "We can't."

No. No. They couldn't leave it there, with those people, to look at and laugh—making bets, snickers, and god knew what else! No. They had to burn it. It should've never been taken. Amanda should've never been violated in that way. "Beth, we can't go back. We have to go," Frankie nodded.

And Amanda sputtered out too, leaning in on her further, holding her hand, her fingers going through hers, "Can't go back…Beth…we can't…"

Yes! Dammit! They couldn't go back. "Okay, honey," she said, started walking her out, and other quickly followed too, "We're going…we're going home."

But Amanda shook her head, her fingers tightened on hers as they stood over the fences, the dead lined up at both sides. "Beth… we can't," Amanda again said as Mark slid open the gate.

Beth stopped, turned and looked at her friend, at her sister not by blood but by love, before she took her out of this damn place, out of this damn nightmare, and Amanda said, "Beth…we can't go back home."

* * *

_A whole Beth chapter, being awesome :)_  
_I know a lot of people love Beth and Amanda's friendship, as much as I love them together, and I wanted Beth to get them out of there from the start, like she did at Grady, finding herself new alliances, all the while taking care of Amanda while she has a complete breakdown after her ordeal-but still trying to tell Beth they can't go back home._

_We'll see what Rick and Daryl are up too, as well in the next chapter, I haven't forgotten them. Quite happy to announce that they will get back together soon._


	23. Chapter 23

XXII.

Over her tongue there was still the taste of flesh and blood, and her body was burning. The slap had bit at her cheek, bringing her back but Amanda wanted to go back to darkness, wanted it to envelope her, cocooning, making her forget everything.

_Rick._

She opened her eyes…and tried to see the blue eyes—electrical but warm…but the blue eyes she saw wasn't the same color—it was doelike—wide, sincere and earnest… Beth?

Her voice—a whimper…so cracked—so throaty…so broken…a whimper…

"We're going home…" her friend told her, pulling her back up, and Amanda thought of Rick again… She didn't know how Beth had found her—she didn't care at all… She just wanted to go home.

"I wanna go home…"

She wanted to see Judith again, hold her in her arms. She wanted to make cookies to Carl. She wanted to kiss Rick, hold him—tightly—wanted him to make her forget everything.

_Girls like you need men like me…_his voice echoed in her blank mind. _You're wanting it, begging for it…desperately. Soft but empty…_

She was alone in the room now, sitting at the bed on fire—staring at the wall—over her tongue the taste of flesh and blood…copper, metallic, and vile. Bile in her throat. She just wanted it end now. Go back home… It felt like a dream—or just a horror movie that you watched at TV, knowing it wasn't real, it wasn't happening.

She barely registered anything, even the flames across her skin but she knew it still was happening. To her.

Still, she just stared at the wall. Beth was here—wasn't here at the moment—but she was here. Beth—Beth was going to take her back home.

Her friend was going to take her out of this horror. Amanda just was going to wait—stare at the wall—she couldn't do anything else, couldn't turn her head and look at the body lying beside her… She knew it was there. She knew. She just couldn't see it.

It was hard enough to know he was there—she just couldn't look it. Couldn't look at what she'd done, couldn't look at what he'd done—her photo flashed in the blankness of her mind—red—in pain…

A broken sound poured out of her, and Amanda just kept staring at wall.

A second or a lifetime later there were other people back in the room—with Beth—she wasn't alone anymore, and she felt glad—even though she couldn't register who they were—she was just staring at the wall…

She just wanted it end now.

They were talking—plans and such, and a small—the smallest part of her was telling her she had to get up—get up and fight, but its voice was so faint—so weak—and she was so—tired… So she just stared at the wall.

They came back to her, and started cleaning her—holding her arms up, wiping clean her face, her neck—herself—and she let them do… like a doll.

The thought made another red flash in the darkness, but still she couldn't help herself—Beth—Beth was there. Beth couldn't hurt her.

But then she brought her to the bath and forced to her bend down.

And the memory flashed so red in the emptiness inside, terror seizing her, cutting her insides… she heard a whistle in the air—and a crack at her skin…

And she begged—_please, let me lay over your knees…_

But Beth was talking to her again…. "Amanda, honey, we need to wash your hair…. Could you please bend down so we can do it?" And, Amanda was falling on her knees—like a doll—a plaything…

She wanted to go home. Why they couldn't just go home?

They took her out, they were going—away from that nightmare…so she didn't need to stare at the wall now but walking hurt—so very badly, with each step she felt she was put aflame more, and everywhere around her, there were whispers, and snickers… and she heard… "she ain't gon' sit on her ass for two weeks at least, wanna bet?"

_Wanna bet…?_ It echoed in her—in the emptiness… and she felt a wetness over her cheek.

"Don't listen to them honey, don't listen to them… We're going home."

"Home…" Yes, home. She—they needed to get back home…but…but…that faint voice scratched in her again, clawing at the back of her consciousness—trying to say something—but everywhere—everywhere there were whispers and snickers…and worse…those looks…those pitying looks…like she was a broken, damaged thing.

_Girls like you need men like me to make them whole—_his voice told her, and she hated it—she hated it just the first time she'd heard it, because she knew it was truth, because she knew she was just damaged goods, someone who should've never even born, someone who needed someone else to make her forget how lonely she was—how truly alone, empty inside.

But she wasn't alone…she had people now… even now… Beth was there—with her—her friend…her friend was taking her back home… She—she wasn't alone. And… she wasn't even empty inside… she had her babies.

Her babies…

Is this why you wanted to put a baby in there? Fill your emptiness inside?

A piece of Rick—inside her growing—filling her in… she had always known it, and they—they'd created a life—two lives together. Rick wanted to create a life together with her—and they had… In her mind, Rick smiled warmly at her again—even felt the light, gentle touches tingling at the tips of her fingers, and a warmness started spreading over her again, melting the blankness, bringing her back to the serenity…

Rick. She—she had to go back to Rick… Shouldn't let that vile man break her more. The bastard hadn't known a damn thing about her or him.

They lay over her on her stomach—she was in the infirmary—she recognized it from the sharp smells—Grady coming to her back, but she didn't let herself think anymore. They were going back home. Then they were going to put this behind—forget about it—and move on.

So Amanda just lay there—and let them do it—open her skirts and prob her burning ass, and it hurt even worse when the doctor cleaned her wounds—biting—snarling at her skin—putting her on fire, and they were talking about meds, and painkillers and such, but Amanda wasn't listening—she was—there was that faint echo at the back at her head again—clinging at her—poking at her…

And she tried to focus on it—trying to find it—she knew deep down she had to—she had to find—she was missing something. God, she just had to stop and think!

Then there were sirens—blasting in the air screeching, and screeching, and screeching, and it slipped off her—like sand through slipping through her fingers.

Beth pulled her up again, standing her up and they left the infirmary in a hurry—even she was walking faster—it was still hurting—and she was still tumbling with her heels—but they needed to get the hell out of here, and go back home—and Amanda knew it… Home—and that thing—the faint echo was crawling at the back of her mind again. She tried to think again, but the sirens just wouldn't let her, blasting in her ears… She leaned down over Beth, "Beth—" she tried to say, her voice still coming out as a whimper, "Home…" she said, there was something—something she couldn't just find—and Beth—Beth—gave her an smile, "Yes, we're going home. We're going to Rick and Daryl."

She shook her head a little, there was something wrong. A hunch—or something—a faint echo in her mind trying to tell her something. She needed to listen to it, it was important, but they were almost running now outside, towards the gate, towards the escape, and Beth was persistence, talking to women with them. Amanda realized—they were escaping together—Frankie and her friends—Beth—Beth had convinced them.

They were running together. To home.

And there was _really_ something wrong with that!

Inside the cabin at the gate, Beth turned to her, "Ready to see Rick again?"

Her mind flashed at the last time she'd seen him—the memory slipping further in her, crawling back at her head toward the faint echo, and she recognized it— _And imagine you did, imagine you got me out there—what happens then?_

What happened now? "Beth—" she turned to her, blankness slowly lifting off her.

But Beth suddenly exclaimed before Amanda could say—find something more, turning to other women, "Her photo! I left it back there!"

"We can't go back," Frankie said quickly, "We can't."

Then Amanda knew…She grabbed Beth's hand quickly as soon as it came to her, "Can't go back, Beth, we can't…."

Beth nodded, her face grimacing, but said, "Yes, honey. We're going home."

No! she wanted to scream, but she couldn't find her voice. She-they had to leave…they couldn't go back. When they realized they were gone, Alexandria was going to the first place they would come to look for them… She—she had killed Negan. No matter what they wouldn't have let that go…unpunished.

They…they to go. She—she had to protect her home. She couldn't let them destroy it. They were going out again though, Beth had taken her arm—they were leaving this place, leaving her photo back—the thought cut through her—but she shook her head, nothing was important that… They—they needed to find a place—a safe place—and regroup and find a way to contact Rick and Daryl again. They—they couldn't go back home. Not yet. She held Beth's hand tighter, "Beth…we can't…" she told her friend then, trying to find the words—trying to explain—everything was still a mess—and a part of her—the big part of her still just wanted to stare at a wall—darkness consuming her—she…she was tired—so tired—beaten, broken, humiliated, there was one thing she only wanted—to be in Rick's arms as he made her forget everything.

She just wanted to be with Rick, and forget everything, even herself.

But that faint echo was still there—at the back of her consciousness—a thread of something—as thin as a hair and as sharp as razor—she was afraid to touch and get hurt—her skin was still burning. But the thread was still persistence—crawling toward her—demanding—demanding to be touched and heard—so she did, like she was pulled—like she couldn't help herself…like she was drawn to… She closed her eyes, and slowly reaching out…and she touched it.

And she heard it, the faint echo turning Rick's low, rasping voice—the demanding voice she always had found herself listening to—no matter what—and it told her, told her—_get up and fight._

Once again Amanda listened to it. She opened her eyes and looked at Beth as her friend looked at her back at the gate, "Beth…we can't go back home."

# # #

Beth was still staring at her as they stood at the gate, "What?" she asked. Amanda looked even more lucid now, Beth noticed again with relief, but she wasn't any making any sense. Not even a bit.

"Amanda—" she started again—but Frankie pushed them out. "This's no time. We need to get out."

Letting out a shaking breath, Amanda nodded, "S-she's right. We—we need to get away first. I'll explain later."

Beth was still holding her tighter, but her steps grew steadier as if she was coming back from the shock, and Beth sent another silent thank you inside—this…this was going to be hard.

They started running towards the road—but Amanda said, shaking her head, "Woods—we need to get into the woods."

Yes. The road was always more dangerous, and it was already night. The moon was rising in the sky too, so Beth knew they would have a bit of light too. Walking in the woods at night was dangerous, but between the two Beth knew which she would always pick.

Aside a gun, and Mark's his own weapons, they had nothing. No food, no shelter, not even water. They needed to go back home. Even though Amanda had said they couldn't. Beth didn't quite understand. They—they had to get back.

The night chill was biting as well, only their dresses on their backs and sheer stockings, but there was no other option. They had to keep up. For a second, Beth caught Amanda's still wet dripping hair, her shivering figure. No. She was going to keep up. _They_ needed to keep up. Beth knew their spur of the moment escape plan wasn't the best laid out plan—but they had made it.

Stumbling with the heels, they left the roadside and entered in the wood line.

Still resting at her side, Amanda then stopped, and put her hand on a tree beside her, and tried to catch her breath, heaving deeply. "Lose the heels—" she told them, trying to bend down to take off her shoes—but still couldn't—she turned around and rested her back against the tree as if the cover herself before she leaned down to take of her shoes.

Kneeling down, Beth tried to help, but Amanda shook her head. "I—I'm fine. I can do it."

Standing up, Beth nodded, but gave her friend a careful look. She was still pale and moist with cold sweat, shivering in the chill worse than them, but her skin was burning. She prayed combined with the night chill her injury wasn't going to cause her a fever. The doctor said if she ran a fever but before the man would've given her pills for fever, they had had to leave. They still had the antibiotics and the antiseptic but if she caught a fever, she would've needed other meds too.

They needed to get back to Alexandria. "Amanda—we need to get back Alexandria."

Amanda shook her head again, holding her shoe in her hands, and tightening her fingers around the heel, she pulled it forcefully to break it from the sole. They all did the same thing, and Amanda stared at the sharp heels in her hand, and a small, soft smile flittered across her lips, "The first time Rick saw me in heels, he told me I could kill walkers with it at least. Foresight," she murmured, and lifting her head she looked at them, heaving again deeply. Her green eyes turned to Beth again, and taking a step forward, she hugged her fiercely. Beth hugged her back, tears filling in her eyes as Amanda whispered at her, "Thank you, thank you, Beth."

Wordlessly, Beth nodded, still holding her friend closer, but Frankie said beside them, "I—we don't have time to thank to each other yet. We need to go. Soon they'll start looking for us."

Beth nodded, walking back from Amanda. "Yeah… we—we—" she started but Amanda cut her off.

"We need to be smart. We can't wander around in the woods like this—" She waved a vague hand at herself and turned to Mark, "Do you have a gun?"

The man nodded, and lifting his shirt off, he showed her his gun. Amanda nodded. "Okay, that's better. We've got one gun, and a couple of sharp heels. Not bad for a start."

"I've got a gun too—" Beth said, lifting her skirt a bit up to show her own gun that tied around her hip, "Took it from Negan."

Another shiver passed through Amanda, but Beth knew this time it wasn't because of the chill. For a moment she looked like the same broken woman Beth had found her back in the room half an hour ago, but she collected herself the second later. "Okay. Even better. But we still need to find more," she said, and Beth cut her in.

"Amanda, why don't we go to Alexandria?"

"We escaped tonight, Beth," Amanda told her slowly, her voice still forming low from her throat, having a rough extent to it—as if she was forcing herself to keep it clear, "Alexandria is the first place they'll come to look for us. I'm sorry. We can't go back. We—we have to find a place and regroup. Then—then we'll figure out some way to contact Rick and Daryl."

"But—"

"No, buts, Beth—" Amanda said, letting out another deep breath, "Please, I'm so…tired. I want to go home, too, but we can't endanger them like that. If we go there, their life will be in danger. This Simon—This Simon can get worse than—" she gulped—before she could say her torturer's name, but didn't manage, "—him. We can't risk it. We have to find another way."

Amber gave her a look, "She—she said we can live with you…?" the blonde girl mumbled.

"You can—" Amanda answered, "Just now right now. We ha—have to—" She paused, her brows tightening, "Dammit! I just can't think properly!" she muttered out under her breath with ire.

Beth took a step closer to her and touched at her upper arm. "Amanda, take it easy—please," she told the older woman, "It's okay. We'll make it. We'll find a way. We escaped."

Looking at her, Amanda nodded, and closed her eyes, breathing again deeply as if concentrate. Then a few seconds later, she cracked them open. "We—we've got a safe house. Rick decided to prepare it in the woods in case of something happens and we need to run off, remember?" Amanda asked then, and Beth remembered. Rick had also wanted to have a place for them to regroup if they ever attacked like at the prison, not wandering away in the woods unprepared like they'd done.

Like they were doing _now_. Understanding where Amanda was going with it, Beth nodded. "It's much closer to here than Alexandria is, too. It's also got guns, supplies. We go there, get back at our feet, then we'll find a way to warn Rick and Daryl about our whereabouts."

"And then?" Mark asked.

Amanda sighed out again, "I don't know. One step at a time. Our first priority is finding guns and supplies. We can talk the rest at the safe house."

Beth paused for a second, and her eyes wandered around the former wives, "Don't you have your own communities?" Beth asked, but Nicole and Amber shook her head as Mark.

"They found me in the wild—" Amber said as Mark.

And Nicole nodded, "Same here."

Beth looked at Frankie and Tanya, but Frankie shook her head. "They—they killed all of our men when we tried to fight back," Frankie said suddenly, "We barely managed to leave in time."

Beth felt her chest pinched again, understanding Amanda's words better. They—they could not risk their home like that.

She nodded, "Okay, let's get to the safe house, so we could think what to do the next."

They all nodded, Amanda heaving out again laboriously, and started move out in the darkness.

# # #

Cold. It was so cold, she was shivering madly, yet burning with fire.

Her burning skin was wet with perspiration too, and she was catching a cold out here in the late winter night, and she was afraid she wasn't the only one. Each of them was shivering now, even the guy whose face was burned ugly half—and she tried not to think of it—but even in the mess of her mind, connecting the dots were inevitable.

Mark—Amber's lover must've been the reason of the young girl's whimpers, and the half-burned face must have been the punishment the damn bastard had warned her against.

_You wouldn't want me to do that, doll…_ she remembered his words. If only she could erase the sadistic bastard's voice from her every memory—forget about him

Rick…

She needed Rick. She wanted Rick. She really just wanted to go in his arms and forget anything. He would've taken her in his arms, stroked her hair, kissed her lightly—he…he…

_You need men like me to take care of you…_ his voice echoed in her again, but she pushed it away forcefully, only stayed focused on the voice telling her to get up and fight—only Rick's voice. She just didn't want to think any more about her…submissive inclinations, the way even now—she had managed to find Rick in her—giving her a command, how he'd made her held on the bastard and rip his throat apart.

It'd been him—inside her—the roaring beast—it was him. He wasn't with her, but he was also with her. The bastard had been wrong. He—he'd said she'd taken her from Rick—but Rick was always in her. A part of her… his voice in her mind, his babies in her inside.

The bastard's words—they hurt her as much as lashes at her ass—as much as the way she'd ended up begging at him—but the words hurt because—because they were true—like someone really had opened her insides and was dissecting her…and she hated it—she hated it…

_You hate to admit it—hate that you want it, but you do, you want it desperately. You can't help yourself. You want to yield. You're begging for it._

Tears filled in her eyes back as she shivered again, and she bowed her head so no one could understand she started crying again. Why—why everything had to be this—complicated?

It…it was wrong…it sounded pathetic. She—she'd felt humiliated when she'd heard the words. When she had screamed the very same things at Rick a few days ago—they'd just flooded out of her—and she let herself go—and even then it'd felt they were playing with fire, and she didn't want to be burned. She'd been so broken after what he'd done to her, even letting the damn bastard caress her hair—laying docile over his lap almost naked at the bottom until he'd called her baby.

With a shiver that passed through all of her insides, she thought what would've happened if—if he hadn't done that—if—if he'd just kept her stroking her—and…and…and would have she let it then?

Let him take care of her?

No! Never! She—she hated men like Negan! They—they were disgusting. They disgusted her. She'd always loved nice men! She—she loved Rick. More than anything in this life.

Then why the hell she'd let that man touch like that—caress her, play with her hair—just sitting over his lap like a good, pretty doll who he'd disciplined.

Her tears fastened so much she swaggered at her feet—shoes with broken heels making it even harder… then she heard snarls—coming from their left side, and she had never been that happy to see rotters before. She turned and her hand fisting around her heel, she rushed toward them.

Plain and simple, killing walkers. How her life was supposed to be.

Being with Rick, having children, being happy, being a family. Plain and simple. Everything else, Amanda was just going to forget.

After the walkers, they walked two or three hours more—she couldn't be sure anymore. She was getting so tired—burning—her bottom aching so bad for a couple of times she just thought to collapse down to catch her breath, but they couldn't stop. They—they needed to get away.

They needed to find a shelter.

She was going back to Rick—she was going to find a way—then—then they would find a way—a way to deal with these bastards—and be happy again. Her hand went her stomach, and she touched her babies—They were going to be happy. She wasn't going to let that bastard's words get the best of her. Amanda wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

Another two hours later, before they _all_ collapsed down with fatigue, they finally found the safe house, the little cabin that had stayed from the old days.

Rick had found it on supply run before and had decided to build it for emergencies. The cabin was pretty deep in the woods, secluded, so it must have safe—though one could've never been sure in these days. They'd been lucky—only had countered walkers a couple of times…in lesser numbers, and no living. The late winter—the chilling air once again was making it safer being outside. No one would've stayed out in this weather if they didn't needed—but that fact also made things harder—because they saw a group in the woods in this weather, Amanda knew they were going to be more savage than usual, having to stay in the woods even in winter.

She raised her hand and stopped them and twisted aside toward Beth. "Beth, gun—" she ordered, holding a hand toward her.

Enough was enough. Beth had already taken enough of risks. She—she needed to protect these people now. _She_ was the police officer.

She took the gun Beth had given to her, and told the other, "Stay here—" She looked at the man, "You're with me. I take the front—you at the back—Beth—you stay at guard," she gave the order and they slowly approached the cabin, Amanda rising the gun higher, emptying her mind from everything but the cabin in front of her.

She grabbed the handle—trying to peek from the windows but Rick had already shut it close—so taking another deep breath, she pushed it open and quickly walked in—taking the first corner first—turning twisting aside quickly seeing it clear and, slowly one step and another, she cleared the hall, two hands on the gun—and suddenly heard a soft cracking.

She spun around on reflex toward the sound, already ready to pull the trigger, and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the source of the sound. She stared ahead—couldn't believing what she was seeing.

It couldn't be happening.

Because it was Rick—coming out of another room—his revolver raised toward her at the end of his arm…

"Rick…?" she whispered—shivering again—her resolves crumbling down.

Was…was she turning mad? Started hallucinating him too?

But he was looking at her with the same bewilderment too—those blue, electrical eyes looking at her back… "Rick—" she whispered again, her hands dropping at her sides…

Her tears started running down. He stayed like a stone only for a second longer then, his hand dropping too, he ran to her, and took her in embrace.

Amanda hugged him back fiercely.

She had no idea what was happening, but she didn't care. She was in his arms. Where she belonged. And everything was going to be okay. They—they were together again.

His arms were tightly wrapped around her waist—bringing her closer at himself as Amanda tightened her arms around his neck, her lips already trailing over his neck, kissing him… She—she needed him. She needed him to make her forget everything—

His arms lowered down like each time he did to hoist her up along his body whenever they hugged this fiercely, and he tightened them under her ass—

Pain—a flash of red cut through her insides like lighting—putting her aflame, and she trembled uncontrollably as he lifted her up, her feet hovering over the wooden floor, and before she could stop herself, a groan left her mouth "Ahhh—"

Rick stopped dead, hearing it—understanding her trembling figure. He put her down and pulled an inch, his eyes looking at her questionably. "Amanda—?" He asked, "What happened?"

The questioned turned in her mind as she stared at him. What happened?

She took a step back—No—No… she—she—she couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell him what had happened. What—what that sick bastard had done to her!

Never.

She—he—he couldn't see her like _this._

She just wanted it to end, just be in his arms, and forget everything but seeing him like this, looking at her like this—his blue eyes clenched with confusion and suspicion, she understood it never could be.

He took a step forward to her as she took another back too, and she saw Daryl behind him—Abraham and Sasha and Michonne—they were all here as Beth and the women walked into the room… As she stood there planted on her feet, Beth ran to Daryl and jumped on him, hugging him as tightly as Amanda was supposed to—but she couldn't—she just couldn't do this.

Then—without knowing what else to do, tears welling in her eyes, she turned and ran out of the cabin.

* * *

_Okay, they finally got back together, Amanda understanding she could not just forget what happened. Her inner struggles about her own self-image and sexuality and needs are getting very completed, but also a good writing example. Hope I'm not screwing it up._

_See ya later._


	24. Chapter 24

XXIII.

Before the sun set down in the horizon, they buried Dwight and Cherry next to Glenn's still fresh grave.

Everything—everything was turning worse. In the last two days, he'd lost one of the best men he'd ever met, lost another two people who he should've protected, and let that sadistic bastard take away his wife from him again.

He had watched Amanda be taken away from him _twice_—standing—doing nothing.

No more!

He—he couldn't watch that again. Negan had been furious—furious when he'd learned Dwight and Cherry had been with them—furious with Amanda when he'd realized Amanda had fed him a story about how they'd discovered Saviors just like he'd expected.

The bastard was furious—and Rick knew it didn't bode well.

Looking at the graves, the scene passed over his eyes, the way he'd pointed the damn bat at her, ordering her to stop when she had tried to talk. _We're gonna talk about this later._

_Later._

He—he had to get her out of there… He had to get her out of there now. After they'd confiscated their guns, he couldn't have done anything, watched her leave with them again, but now, Rick couldn't wait anymore, couldn't play along.

The words—the way the bastard had said they were going to talk about it later had sent a shiver down through his spine—the way the bat had pointed at her.

No. He had to take Amanda out of here. The sonofabitch—the sonofabitch was going to do something to her. He knew. He was…disappointed with her, displeased, and Rick remembered the words again… _If you disappoint me, I. make. you. suffer._

If the bastard touched her, if he—he put a hand on her—

Rick shook his head a little, trying to calm himself down, trying to… He—he had to something. Amanda—Amanda had said she wanted to stay in—spy on the man, but no way. He hadn't wanted it even then, but now it had become just unacceptable.

She couldn't stay there even a moment longer.

His eyes turned and located Daryl. The other man walked towards him at the feet of the graves. "They can't stay there, man," the hunter told him slowly, "They can't. We gotta do something."

This time without any objection, Rick only nodded. "We need a plan," Daryl said then after his nod. "We—need to find guns—prepare a plan."

Rick nodded. "Take Abraham, Sasha and Michonne and come back to the house," he ordered, turning away, "We need to talk."

Without a word, Daryl nodded back, and started stalked away.

He went to the home back, thoughts and plans running through his mind—They—they had to find a way. A plan… But Amanda was right. Even though—even though they managed to get them out, they still needed a plan afterwards. They couldn't just return Alexandria after they got them out.

And they were going to get them out. Amanda and Beth tonight would return where they belonged. In the arms of the men they loved. Rick wasn't going to let them—punished for what had happened today here.

The last sunlight of the day was fading slowly—so they should hurry. Outside the porch, he saw Carl, waiting for him, still holding Judith.

"You should get in—" Rick told his son tersely, "It's cold—she's gonna get cold."

Carl gave him a look. "You ain't gonna let him stay there, will you?" he asked, and stated, "He's—he's going to hurt her!"

Rick let out a sharp breath. "No. He ain't—" he countered, "He won't get the chance, Carl—" and held his son's shoulder, leaning down, "I'm gonna bring her home. I promise."

Carl gave him another look, and said, "I'm coming with you."

Rick shook his head. "No. You stay here. With Judith—" he said, "She needs you now. _I_ need you now here, Carl. Please. Keep her safe. Do it for me, son."

After that, Carl slowly nodded, "Okay, dad."

They went inside and started waiting for the other in the hall. A couple of minutes later, they all came. "We're gonna get them back, but I need help—" he started, and all in union, they nodded back.

"We know now they might be in the Negan's personal quarters and Dwight had said it was at the top floor before while we'd gone there for recon. We find a way to infiltrate, distract, then get them out. It isn't gonna be easy, but we need to do it now."

"How?" Abraham asked, "They took the guns."

Rick shook his head. He knew. "The cabin in the woods, the safe house. It's on the way to Sanctuary. We go there first, pick up the guns—"

Sasha interrupted, "What if they're gone-it's been a while we haven't checked the safe house."

Rick knew, too. A fact he was beginning to regret. It was winter—so he hadn't wanted to risk it—depending the fact that no one would've ventured that deep in the woods in the winter. They'd cleared out its surroundings. But it was two months ago. A lot of thing could have changed in two months.

Still, they got no other option. Rick shook his head, "If they're gone, then we find guns from somewhere else. But I'm doing it. tonight—" he said, "You saw what happened. Amanda and Beth can't stay for a minute longer."

Daryl nodded as well, waving an arm, "Yeah—we go—no matter what."

"But we still have to smart—" Rick said, "I—I should've located Dwight and Cherry for the first thing this morning, but I didn't." And Rick was not going to let Amanda pay for his mistake. He'd known he should've done it, but dammit, he hadn't really thought Negan would've come back this quick.

Amanda—trying to get them stay coolheaded, not rushing their rescue had made things even harder. It wasn't her fault—but—but… God, Rick needed to get her out of there. This—this was wrong. She had no place there, playing Nikita.

_What happens then…?_

She asked again in her mind. He-he had to find a way.

A place they would retreat and stay safe until they dealt with those sonofbitches.

They couldn't go either Hilltop or the Kingdom. Because of their affiliation, those communities were going to be the second places they would check after Alexandria. No. They needed someplace else. He thought then the cabin again. They would crash back again after, but the cabin was too small and too close to Sanctuary. Even though they could manage live there for a while until they dealt with the threat and turn back to home, Sanctuary would start a detailed search in the woods after they couldn't have found Amanda and Beth in Alexandria.

No. They—they needed somewhere else—safer.

Safer and away from them.

Somewhere Rick would safely operate taking them down. Seven outposts. They—they needed to deal with those seven outposts first. He didn't know where they were, but he was going to find out. He was. As long as Sanctuary stood, Alexandria would never be safe. They would never get the life Rick had promised Amanda. A better life. For all of them. For their families.

He turned to Daryl. "We—we need to fall back to somewhere else after we get them out—" he started explaining, "We can't return to Alexandria." Daryl nodded, understanding. Rick turned to Michonne then, "You—you'll need to deflect them. They will come to look for us."

"You return to the cabin then?" Abraham asked.

Rick shook his head, "It's too close to Sanctuary. We need somewhere else. Safer."

"Quarry—" Daryl then said, "We cleared out the rest of it while taking stones, but management offices and containers are still functioning. We could make it there. It's far away from Sanctuary."

The quarry, Rick thought. It—it could work. They'd scavenged it when they'd returned for stones, but they still could make it. He nodded. "Okay. We move in fifteen minutes. Get ready."

After they left, alone in the hall with Carl who still had Judith in his arms, Rick tapped his revolver in thoughts. The bastard had let him to carry it even though they'd taken all the rest of the weapons, a gesture of mock—insulting Rick further, making a point that he couldn't do anything even though he let Rick carry a weapon.

Rick swore that one day he was going to regret that decision, too.

One day—perhaps not tonight—but one day he was going to kill the bastard. The most horrible way possible. If he touched Amanda—if he put a hand on her—his thought spiraled down again through his fear and dread, but Rick suppressed them down.

Everything was going to be okay. They would be okay. He was going to bring her back, where she belonged. To her family. To him. To Carl and Judith. He turned to Carl and walked to his son. "Carl, I can't return for a while," he said, even the words hurting him, but he couldn't take them with him. The wilderness—the woods weren't safe. It—it was going to be hard. Even though Carl could manage it, he couldn't do the same thing to Judith again.

"I know, Dad," Carl told him back, "It's okay. I'll keep Judith safe until you come back."

His son was truly becoming a man, Rick thought then, and held him at his shoulder, and hugged him. It—it was hard to leave them behind, but they couldn't stay. As long as Amanda wasn't there, Alexandria would be safe. He—he had to believe that. But if… He shook his head, they—they had already taken too much risks. "If—if something happens her—" so Rick said, "Maggie left for Hilltop today. Go find her."

Carl nodded. Rick bent down and kissed Judith's hair, and left the house.

In front of the gate, Daryl was already on his bike. They all filled in the deep blue Chrysler, Rick trying not to think the last time he'd been in the car with her when they had gone back to Hilltop, to learn about their baby—babies—telling her he wanted her to give him a second child—even knowing that she was already giving him that.

He wanted her back. He needed her back. He so needed her back.

The road was calm for a change and they arrived the intersection where the cabin was laid at their left side. They parked the cars inside the wood line, covering it brushes and forage—giving them an image of broken vehicles before they continued on feet.

He'd wanted only one car so it'd easier to disguise them as they were going to need to walk in the woods to get to the cabin. Beth could share the bike with Daryl, and Rick would have Amanda at the passenger seat next to him, where she belonged. At the backseat, Abraham was going to have to squeeze with Sansa, not a thing the ex-soldier would mind, Rick believed.

The moon was rising high in the sky as they arrived the cabin. The weather was cold, getting even more chilly in the open air. Rick raised the zipper of his heavy suede jacket with fur over his denim shirt's open collar and shot a look at the cabin.

Aside him, Michonne had still her katana, somehow, they'd also left it behind at the houses, and others had combat knives open in the air, Abraham even handling a big metal bar. Rick motioned them, and they circled the place, Michonne going back. Daryl and he took the front, Rick pulling out his Colt Python in front of the door. Daryl pushed the door for him open at the other side and Rick quickly swept the entrance and started walking in the narrow corridor.

The cabin had two rooms and one living spaces with an open kitchen, so it took less than five minutes to make sure that it was clear and still—untouched. Quickly they moved to the room at the back where they'd taken off the wooden tiles at the floor to stash the guns and food.

They finished the job a couple of minutes later, and started to take out the guns and food in silence when Rick heard it fast. A crack of opening door, and soft footsteps over the wooden floor. Rick placed his finger toward his lips in a gesture to make the others stop and took his gun from the floor where he had laid it down.

He slowly raised up on his feet, careful not to make any noise with his heavy cowboy boots and walked out the room. Footsteps were approaching, and Rick got closer to them, and placed his foot over a loose woodblock and it squeaked for a split of second before he pulled his foot away quickly.

Footsteps hastened, and Rick knew whoever was that over there had heard it. He raised his arm, point the gun, and quickly covered the rest of them room—nothing—nothing went in their lives without a complication…the cabin seemed like had been untouched since then they'd left it the last time two months ago—and the moment they had put a foot inside, trouble arrived too.

_Somehow wherever you go, death follows you…_

Rick pushed away the damn last Monroe's words quickly off his mind, and turned the corner to meet the intruder, his gun still trained—and stopped—

His whole body stopped, his heart stopped, it was like he was casted off stone—not moving an inch, his hand still raised high in the air…pointed at—Amanda, who was point back a gun at him.

No.

It couldn't be. His mind was pulling some shit over him again. He—he must be hallucinating. It—it couldn't be Amanda. He was going to go to save her.

Yet, she stood there too, with the same bewilderment, a gun still between her hands…shivering… she—she was wet—her skin covered with sweat, her hair damp with moist, wet, even down the short black flared dress she was wearing… "Rick—" she mumbled, her hands shaking as she shivered.

She made out a broken sob, "Rick—" and whispered again, her hands dropping at her sides, looking at him with teary glazed eyes, imploring…shivering like a wild wounded animal, wet and trembling open in the woods.

Rick ran to her and took her in his arms.

Where she belonged. His beautiful wife—his beautiful hedgehog with quilted skin but not-so-cold heart… He…he'd found her. He had no idea what was happening, but…she was here, within in his arms…hugging him fiercely. He tightened his arms, bringing them tighter and tighter around her waist, bringing her closer to him—deeply inhaling her scent, hiding his head over her neck. He'd missed her…he'd so missed her—missed her scent, missed the feel of her body—missed her everything.

Tightening his arms further, He lowered his arms downward around under her ass to hoist her up—bringing her core against his bulge—to feel her warm, tilting his hips forth—he already wanted to tear off that damn dress off her and lay her down and take her—just right there—just over the filthy squeaking wood floor—have her, making her his again—no one's but his.

He pulled her eve closer—his hands under her ass groping her, squeezing—and suddenly she violently trembled, and started shaking in his arms, and he heard a groan pouring out of her throat low… "Ahh…"

Rick knew every little moan and groan Amanda made—making her moan and groan under him was his favorite activity, but the sound she had made—no…it wasn't one of pleasure…Amanda enjoyed rough—but she—the way she had groaned… Thoughts spun around in his mind—and he pulled back an inch and looked at her.

"Amanda—" he asked, "What happened?"

And she gave him such a terrified, panic look Rick knew as she took a step back from him, whatever this was it wasn't _good_.

Panic caught him then too. As others filled in the room, Beth throwing herself at Daryl, Rick took a step forward, coming at her, and with the same terrified look, Amanda took another step back, still staring at him at lost—and at that moment she really looked like a terrified, wild animal in the woods, wet and dirtied, wounded—hurt.

_No_.

Then, like the wild wounded animal she was, she turned around, and fled.

# # #

"What happened?" Rick asked after Amanda suddenly had sprinted off and ran out of the cabin. Beth—twisted her head aside from Daryl's neck and gave a look at Rick, her heart hurting. She—she wanted to stay in the arms of Daryl, she had missed his leathery scent, mixed with forest under a tang of sweaty, and scent that always reminded her of home.

But her friend needed her… And Rick… Rick wasn't going to like this.

Hearing what had happened. Hearing what Amanda had had to survive. They were all staring at each other…unable to talk, and Beth knew it wasn't only because of the shock of finding each other at the cabin.

Beth didn't have any slightest idea how that had happened, but she also understood that it wasn't important. They were here. And someone needed to explain to Rick what had happened.

Then Rick turned on his heels, and started walking out—

"No!" Beth shouted at his back, extracting herself quickly out of Daryl's arms—his brows narrowed but in suspicion he let her go, "Rick, please." Beth called after the other man, "I'll find her."

Rick gave her a look, hard as steel, "What happened, Beth?" he repeated, his voice had the same steel in his tone, "What happened to Amanda?"

Beth gulped. "She—she's fine. I'll find her. Please. Wait here."

Flittering Daryl a look, Beth started walking out. Outside the steps, she found Amanda leaning over a tree, her back at the cabin so she couldn't see them. With a sigh, Beth walked to her.

"Amanda—" she started, walking around the tree to face with her, "You have to—"

Amanda cut her off, shaking her head, her tears slowly slipping off her eyes, "I—I can't do this, Beth. I can't."

"Amanda—please, be reasonable," Beth said back, holding on a sigh back, "You can't stay here. It's cold."

And she was still trembling, her dress clutched at her skin with perspiration, her hair still wet, the remains of her make-up, eyeliner and mascara they couldn't clean fully before smeared around her eyes more. Beth hated to admit it, hated it to see her like this, but she really looked—pitiful. "I can't see him…not like this," she said, shaking her head again, "I don't want him to see me like this."

"Amanda—" Beth told her with a sigh, walking closer.

"—And…and…h-he will blame himself too," Amanda continued, swallowing down a half sob, "I don't want him to do it."

"Amanda, you can't hide it."

She gave out such a broken, bitter laugh that curt Beth inside. "Can't I, can I?" she whispered out, and tried to laugh more, "I wanted to sit down—couldn't. Hurt so much."

Beth looked at her standing figure against the tree, her chest tightening, but understood what the older woman had meant. _She's ain't gon' sit on her ass at least for two weeks, wanna bet?_ Beth recalled the words from those damn guards and wanted to hit something. She'd never been a violent person but seeing her friend like this was making her _furious_.

But she really needed to return to the cabin. "Amanda, you can't hide from him forever." She meant they were going to sleep together…they were…

But Amanda shook her head defiantly. "Just _now_ is enough," she muttered, "I—I just can't deal with this now. I—I wanted to see him, Beth—wanted to see him—be in his arms again, so much. When you found me, all I wanted was to go back home…so I could be with him, be with my family. But—but I just can't do it now. I—I can't talk."

"We don't need to talk—" Suddenly Rick's voice came from the other side as he walked around the tree, and Beth could swear Amanda jumped at her feet a little hearing it, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Rick—" she whispered out as Rick gave her a look.

"Amanda, the only thing matters you're back. All of you, you, Beth, our babies…y'all are back," he told her in earnest, his voice low but having certainty in it, that timber that Beth always thought that made people listen to him, "If you don't want to, we won't talk. Not until you're ready. But you're coming with me now."

And he lifted his hand to her, waiting her to come to him, giving Amanda such an intense stare, Beth watched her friend moved like she was drawn to—and took his hand.

He took Amanda back in her embrace again, Beth noticed much lighter than he'd just done—with a such care, like he was holding in his arms a very delicate, a very unique thing that would break at his touch, and started caressing her hair—whispering something in her ear Beth couldn't hear, and slowly Beth turned and left them alone.

As she walked, she started crying too.

Outside the steps, Daryl was there, too, waiting for her. And running to him, Beth threw herself at him, and started crying too. For Amanda, for herself, or for Daryl she didn't know, and she just did—tears running like a flood out of her as Daryl slowly caressed her hair, like Rick had done—rougher and still awkward—terribly awkward at giving comfort, just like Daryl, but doing it for her, the man she loved.

# # #

Rick watched Beth as she left the cabin like a man who knew he was having a nightmare while he slept, but this was no sleep, there would be no waking.

He—he'd been late. He—he couldn't save her… She—he'd done something to her. The damn bastard had hurt her! _If you disappoint me, I make you suffer_, flashed in his mind, and turning around, with a scream, he kicked the wooden chair beside him with all of her forte across the room.

No one even blinked, only looked at him in silence. The damn bastard—the son of bitch had hurt her—hurt her pregnant wife. Once again Rick couldn't have stopped it—couldn't have done nothing!

But Negan—Negan was a dead man walking! He was going to kill the bastard with his own damn hands, make him—make him choke on his blood. He walked to the window and braced his hands on the windowsills… He couldn't have gotten her out of there—she…she'd saved herself.

Carl was right. He was useless. He could do nothing.

He exhaled a sharp breath out and twisted his hand at the newcomers that stood quite frightened alone in the room, three women and a man with a face half burn. His hands fisting along his hips, Rick stalked to the man. Daryl took a step forward too as if he was afraid Rick would slip off again, and he damn might be. "What happened?" he asked again with a growl that came low in his throat, scratching, "What happened to my wife?"

The man sputtered out, walking back away from him, "I-I don't know. I—Amber I escaped with her."

"Why?"

One of the women, the redhead stepped forward in front of him, holding her hand in front of her like she was trying to stop a beast, "We—we escaped together. Beth—Beth got us out. Negan is dead—" she announced with a short breath, and Rick stared at her, "Amanda—Amanda killed him."

_Amanda killed him…_ The words echoed in him—and Rick still stared…

_Amanda killed him… Amanda killed him._

The man had tried to hurt so bad—Amanda had killed him. She—she couldn't have let—but the way she had been—the way she had fled… No. Something had happened. Something—something that had gotten her so terrified instead of facing with him, she had chosen running away from him.

"What happened?" Rick growled out again.

The woman shook her head. "It's—it's the best she shares it on her own time," the woman said, and Rick understood.

Something grabbed him at his chest, pushed into his chest and squeezed his heart. His eyes blackened, and he almost threw up—remembering the way she had groaned, trembled with pain as he'd hoisted her up toward his groin—pushing his semi-hardness into her core, his hands groping her ass.

The bastard—the bastard…he'd raped her.

The room started turning—the world slipping away from him. He stumbled on his feet, walking to the other room, the others still staring at him. Alone, he dropped on his feet.

The bastard had raped her—hurt her—it was all of his fault. His fault. He couldn't have stopped it. Couldn't have stopped—_if you put a hand on her, I kill you in the most horrible way possible._

He couldn't even do that now. Amanda had had to do it, _too_. He couldn't do anything, couldn't even avenge her. The bastard had raped his pregnant wife with twins, and Rick couldn't even revenge it. Amanda had had to take care of it, too. She—she possibly had gone through it—and killed the bastard at the end. But not before the damage had done—so terribly that instead of being with him now, she had fled from him.

Was she in shame? Blaming herself? Was she afraid that what he would've thought of her? Couldn't face with him? Suddenly a thought cut through him—and he thought—he thought what if—He shook his head—Amanda would've never betrayed him—but…She'd killed Negan—that meant—they had to be alone—

Rick pushed the thoughts away. Negan—Negan had hurt her, badly, had done something to her she was terrified to talk about—perhaps Amanda just let him do it—let him—the babies—she couldn't have fought—His stomach heaved—bile rising his throat…

He pushed thoughts again. He—They were back. There was nothing more important than that. They—they would figure it out. He just wanted her back now. She was—she was having it hard. She shouldn't be outside. It was cold, and she already looked like she was a hairbreadth away from fainting.

He left the cabin and started looking for them. He saw Beth outside in the wood line, trying to speak to her, as Amanda stood her back at the tree. They didn't see him approaching, and Rick slowly closer to the tree, and heard as Beth said, as he stood at the other side of the tree, "Amanda, you can't hide from him forever."

"Just _now_ is enough," he heard then Amanda's tired voice, her tone having a strong emphasis on now, "I—I just can't deal with this now," she told the younger woman and Rick felt the blame and hurt finding again worse than inside the cabin.

"I—I wanted to see him, Beth," she then continued, her voice so low and soft, having tears inside, "wanted to see him—be in his arms again, so much." Rick felt someone was tearing off his chest again, squeezing his heart, the words… That was what should've been… she—she should've been in her arms now. No matter what. They were together again. Nothing was more important than that. Whatever hurt she might have had Rick was going to wrap them himself. He should at least do that.

"When you found me, all I wanted was to go back home…" she confessed, and Rick understood—it was really Beth who had gotten them out, "so I could be with him, be with my family. But—but I just can't do it now. I—I can't talk."

Then they wouldn't talk. "We don't need to talk—" He walked out from his spot, walking around revealing himself to them.

"Rick—" Amanda whispered at her again with the same look she had had back in the cabin, a terrified, wounded wild animal—and Rick swore-swore that he was going to heal her back.

"Amanda, the only thing matters you're back. All of you, you, Beth, our babies…y'all are back," he told her, and taking a step further to her, he looked at her directly in the eyes, "If you don't want to, we won't talk. Not until you're ready. But you're coming with me now."

He held out his hand for her, still looking at her—she had to come back. Whatever happened, happened, they couldn't change the past. They—they still had to live—take their revenge, lick their wounds, heal themselves. And Rick would. He was going to put it back together. She still got him. He should at least do that. He took her in his arms gently, and caressed her hair, "I'm gonna put it back together, Amanda. Nothing will hurt you again. I promise," he whispered into her ear, "I'm gonna take care of you, baby."


	25. Chapter 25

XXIV.

_I'm gonna take care of you, baby…_

The words almost did her. She snugged further into him as he caressed her hair, holding her between in his arms, just like she'd wanted—she needed. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to think, she only wanted to be in his arms.

Her shivers ran over her body more as his hand went through the back of her head and slowly started massaging the base of her neck—and she was burning inside out—melting—shivering… He pulled back an inch and looked at her. "Let's get you inside—" he told her, and started taking off his jacket, and put it on her shoulders.

He pushed her arms into the garment, and she smelled him on her—and how she'd missed it—his scent—that manly odor mixed with sweat and the smell of blood—over her tongue she tasted blood and flesh again—copper and metallic but she put it away. She—Rick—Rick had found her. She—she was safe again. They—they had found each other.

He zipped the black suede jacket over her dress, and it was so big—she was almost lost in it—but it was warmer now-and safe, engulfed in his scent. Giving her a look, he bent down a little to kiss her at the tip of her nose. Everything felt so distant now—like her nightmare had finally ended—she…she was with Rick, and he was going to take care of her. He took her hand and they started walking back to the cabin.

She didn't want to see others, didn't want to turn back to the reality but she knew she couldn't escape from it, either. They—they needed to talk—not talk what specifically had happened to her maybe, but they still needed to talk. They'd found each other, yes, but how? "Rick—why—what're you doing here?" she asked, turning her head to him.

"Came for the guns," Rick said, and Amanda understood. They'd come to take the cache he'd hidden here when Negan had taken their guns. "We—we were going to come for you," he continued, "I knew—I knew—" He paused, shaking his head, and stopped walking too, "We were coming for you. I knew I needed to get you out of there. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have lived through this. I should've protected you."

She shook her head. She didn't want him to blame himself for what had happened. Didn't want to see him like this. It wasn't his fault… and—and he'd protected her. When she had needed him, she'd founded him in her. Amanda turned to him fully. "Rick—you protected me. I—I killed him. I killed Negan."

He nodded. "I know. The redhead woman told me."

Panic found her again, and she stared at him… No… She—He knew? He'd learned what had happened to her? Was it the reason why he'd told her the only thing that mattered that she was back? "Did she—did she tell you?"

"She told us Beth got you out and you killed Negan," Rick answered, and got closer to her, her hand still in his, "Baby—whatever happened—it's okay… Even if he hurt you—even if he…" he forced out a breath with difficulty, his jaw clenched, "e—even if he forced—"

Amanda understood the words even if he couldn't have finished them off. Panic rose in her even higher, and she shook her head agitated… No! "No…" she cut him off, "Rick—no! He—he didn't—" she almost said the bastard hadn't touched her—but couldn't—because he had—_he_ had touched her, because Amanda had _asked_ him to do it. Tears came to her again, and she shook her head, "He—he didn't do it, Rick," she could only manage that. The bastard hadn't raped her. She didn't want Rick to torture himself thinking like this—blaming himself… "I would've never let him," she said, hoping it was the truth—remembering how broken she had been laying over his lap—letting him play with her hair—no. She could've never. Never… She searched for the fury inside her, that feeling cut off through her shaken state when the bastard had called her baby. She was only Rick's baby.

She walked in on him closer, "I—ripped off his throat—" she said, clutching at the feeling, that silent fury, looking at those electrical blue eyes having so much intensity that always cut her off her breath, always mesmerized her, the only man she could've ever let her call his baby—only man she could've ever let tie her hands and fuck her senseless… "I did it, sunk my teeth and rip him apart—"

"The bastard called me baby, and I ripped him apart, Rick. I'm only your baby," she told him, as he stared at her with the same look, "No one's but yours."

He closed the little inch apart between them, grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked her on himself, his lips already capturing hers.

She grabbed his face between her hands as he kissed her wildly, and Amanda wondered if he could taste the blood and flesh still over her mouth—he would know—know what that felt. They knew—each other. They understood each other. They were alike, two halves of a whole. _Girls like you need men like me to make them whole_…echoed in her mind again, but she pushed it away…Rick—Rick wasn't like that… They—they weren't like that. The bastard hadn't known a damn thing about them.

Rick parted from her after a while, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes still glued on her— "You're my baby," he whispered at her.

She stared at him back, and quickly confirmed, "Only yours."

They kept staring at each other for a while, and she half expected him to grab her and push her under a tree away from the cabin, and had his ways with him—not only expecting him, either, but wanting it—wanting desperately, being under him—squirming, begging… she couldn't even sit on her ass but she wanted him to fuck her very badly, make her forget everything. The feeling was there, clawing at her insides, something she couldn't ignore…something she couldn't run… _You want to yield… _

She closed her eyes.

Rick breathed heavily as if he was having the same struggles as she felt, and pulled back an inch as she opened her eyes again, "We—we need to get you to a safe place," he murmured, "You…all of you can't stay here. It's not safe."

She nodded. They needed to focus on. This was no time. They needed…a plan. "I know… I—I was—I was going to think about it. Just wanted to have guns and food first. We need a place to hide."

Rick nodded. "Quarry. We were going to take you there."

Quarry. They'd cleared out the place, and the stone bowel had camps—but staying there, staying in a camp that had been occupied by an army of thousands of dead was giving her chills. Rick stepped back completely, as if he understood her reluctance, "Let's get inside. We need to talk what we will do."

At that, Amanda nodded. It was the best. Everything was just so confusing, and she wasn't still ready to face it. She didn't even know when—if she would ever be ready to tell him what the damn bastard had done… She couldn't hide it, of course, like Beth had said. Rick was going to learn about it sooner or later—she was going to have scars now, she knew. He—the sadistic bastard had branded her—and each time they had sex, Rick was going to have to see them—know what Negan had done to her—and…and it wasn't the worst part.

No. She wasn't ready to talk—ready for Rick to see her like this—in pain, scarred, but there was also pride, a defiance, knowing that she'd endured—knowing that she hadn't been broken. Which she hadn't. She couldn't have endured. Would she—would she ever be ready to tell Rick what actually had happened? What she had done—how she'd begged the bastard to lay over his knees—and slap her ass—like a broken, damaged woman thing—and just lay over there and listened to his words—letting him caress her ass, play with her hair—doing nothing just letting him… just laying over his lap and letting him…

No! Never!

Rick—Rick would never learn about it! Never.

She stared ahead at the cabin, as they walked to it, Rick holding her hand again as if he was afraid if he hadn't, she must've taken away from him again, and emptying all of her thoughts, Amanda decided to focus on it—just on it, the feel—the warmness around her hand.

They—they had escaped, had found each other again. Rick was right. There was nothing important than that.

But it was still far from over yet.

She let out a little sigh. She—she really should focus on what to do next, not to preoccupy herself with—with _this_. Everything in her felt like a struggle now, a strife she didn't have any idea how to do with it—how to fight…if she was even supposed to fight.

If it'd been…the old Amanda, she would've just accepted it and moved on—telling herself it was what it was—a fact—a reality—and Amanda never denied a fact, but it looked like she'd lost that ability, too? But so, was it a fact? She didn't even know _what_ it was, what she was supposed to accept and move on.

Luckily for her, before her thoughts even turned more…confusing, they had arrived the cabin and went inside. And as soon as she did, she almost regretted it.

Here again—eyes giving her those looks—directing at her secret glances to see if she would get a break down or try to run away again—or—or something. Even the former wives, _even_ the half-turned face guard were looking at her like that, and Amanda felt fury rising in her—burning her further… They—they didn't even know her!

Beth handed her a bottle of water from as they walked further in the room, her hand still tightly clasped in his. With the other she took and broke her hand free from his to open it. She was thirsty, burning, and the feel of water in her mouth felt like a miracle, washing away the taste of blood and flesh. Beth had rinsed her mouth when they'd washed her hair, but the taste had still remained her. Despite the water, she knew it was going to return to her too, but at least for now, she was free of it. For a little while.

There weren't enough seats in the little cabin, so, gratefully she stood up, resting herself along the wall—if—if she was to force down to sit on a chair—she didn't know how she could do it.

"We need to go—" Daryl said as soon as Rick stood in the middle of the room.

Amanda didn't have any idea what they'd talked when they'd been outside—how much actually Beth had told them, but the hunter was right. They needed to go. It wasn't safe here. Still so close to Sanctuary. They must've understood now they'd escaped into the woods, picked up their trials. She didn't want to face with them so soon. Not like that.

Though, Rick shook his head. "We don't have enough vehicles, only one car and your bike."

They only had thought of rescuing them, the women and the former guard were complicating things too, and there was a pinched expression at Rick's face too, and Amanda knew what he'd been thinking on. No. They couldn't leave them here on their own. They—Frankie and others had helped them. Beth had promised them. She had promised them they could live with them. They couldn't leave them alone here.

And his face loosening, as if Rick had come to the same conclusion, he turned to Abraham. "You go back and bring another car. We will wait for you here."

"Where will we go then?" Amanda cut him in, "the quarry? I don't think it's a good idea. We're too many to fall back there—we don't even know how long we'd be staying there."

Rick's eyes found her, "We can't stay here—"

Amanda cut him off again, "That place is a graveyard, Rick—" she said. There—there had to somewhere else. A place where they could get back on their feet, wrap their wounds, heal themselves. The quarry—the makeshift dead camp—no. It wasn't that place. She didn't want a graveyard, empty, desolated, barren. No. She wanted—a place, a place like home.

She knew she was being unreasonable. Perhaps it was just the fever that made her ludicrous, burning her inside out. She knew this was no time to be picky for such things. They'd barely escaped with their life, but she was so tired of barren, empty things. She wanted life, a real life, life the one she had with Rick in Alexandria. Her hand went across her stomach, and she held her bulge, protectively, her babies… They—they needed something better than a graveyard. Amanda had already given them enough trouble as it was.

"Amanda's right," Beth said, too, "There was nothing there. Can't we go to Kingdom or Hilltop?"

Rick shook his head. "Hilltop and Kingdom are the next places they will look for you. I'm sorry. We can't go to them, either."

There again, Rick Grimes, always being right. She thought of her list then—the historical places she had prepared for them to check out, but no they couldn't do it like this. They—she—she couldn't—didn't want to endanger herself anymore, endanger her babies. Shoot her, but she'd learned her lessons.

_I fucking learned my bloody lessons!_ her voice screamed in her inside, and tears threatening to break over again, she forced it away. She fucking hated it!

They—the thoughts—his words—her begging—they just didn't go away!

She wanted to heave deeply but as it'd drag their attention back to her—giving her those looks, she kept it inside. Time—she told herself. She needed time to recover. She'd been whipped at her ass brutally, then had had to rip off someone's throat just a few hours ago, and possibly running a fever, making her…oh-so-not-reasonable. She supposed it must be…normal to feel like this. She—she had to cut some slacks for herself. _No one is perfect_, Beth told her in her mind again.

And denying facts never helped anyone as well. She'd been humiliated, abused, physically and mentally, and she had to find a way to live with it. She didn't know how right now, but she was going to. "So, the quarry it's then?" she asked, once again forcing her mind to the matter at the hand.

"We—we know a place," suddenly Frankie remarked, taking a step forward in the room, "We—"

"Frankie!" Tanya called out at her friend, exclaiming as all of the occupants of the room turned to them.

Turning her head to her friend, the redhead shook her head, "We have—we have to go back home, Tanya." She pointed at Amanda with her head, "She's right. I don't want to go a graveyard. I don't want to do this anymore."

"You know the rules," Tanya told her, giving her a wide look.

"We have to try—"

"What are you talking about?" Rick cut in between them, walking close to the duo.

Frankie turned to him, "Can—can you fight with them?" she asked, and went on before Rick could reply, "Can you kill them? Kill Saviors?"

Rick's eyes turned sterner, "It's them or us," he told the woman solidly, like the truth it was, "There's no going back."

"Then we'll help you—" Frankie said, "We'll give you an army the Saviors doesn't have any inkling about."

# # #

"Hidden?" Rick asked listening to the women, his mind quite taken what he'd heard. Everything had happened so far tonight had been quite mind-blowing; finding Amanda and Beth again, then learning what had happened, learning Amanda had killed Negan—learning she had ripped off his throat… because the bastard had called her—baby.

_I'm only your baby._

The declaration almost did him—and he almost had taken her away in the wood and fucked her good—fucked her brains out—the way she'd looked at him, almost imploring him with her eyes, begging him. Rick was the only man who was allowed to do that—allowed to call her his baby—and it brought the feel of uniqueness and being capable back to him, and the image of her in his mind doing it was feral—Amanda—his wife ripping off a man's throat with her teeth, just like he'd done—

He didn't know if he was supposed to be shocked and panicked because what she'd been through it or in awe of her resolves, he knew what that took, knew it well—but mostly—mostly, after the surge of lust faded, he'd become worried.

He wondered what had actually triggered Amanda enough to resolve that, what that bastard had done to push her over the edge like that, like Rick had broken the beast inside him, going over his own edge when he'd seen Carl assaulted by those sonofbitches.

There was relief in him as vast as oceans with her admission, coursing through him wildly, knowing that that bastard hadn't managed to do to her what he'd assumed first. He couldn't have even brought himself thinking Amanda going through it, being forced that way—by another man, doing her things only Rick should do, only Rick _could_ do, no one else but him. She was only his baby! They belonged to each other, only to each other, even seeing that bastard looking at his wife like in Alexandria had boiled blood in his veins but…but there was something else.

Something equally bad—something that had broken her—something she was ashamed. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered that he hadn't lost her. She was back, alive, still breathing, flesh and blood. There was _nothing_ more important than that. He imagined the feel of her lips over his…her warmness. She was burning—burning with fever, though Rick wasn't sure anymore because of the cold of the night or something else now. No matter. He was going to heal her back. He was going to put it back together. He was, but first, he had to keep her safe.

"You say Saviors don't know you—" he continued, giving women another wary look. It was still sounding quite incredible, and repeated, "Hidden."

"They found us earlier in the days. Negan wasn't even the leader yet then. But they were still very powerful, and Simon was one of their leaders. They came to our settlement one day. Asked what we all had. We didn't want to give them, tried to fight back." She paused for a second, her voice wavering, her eyes getting moist, "They won—" she said then, "Then…Simon…he brought every men above age ten out in the streets, and they shot them at the head. No question asked, no pleadings listened." She shook her head, "They told us then we'd work for them if we want to live. We decided to leave, took whatever we could, and fled in the dark," she continued.

With the hair on his back standing, Rick listened to the woman's tragic tale. Amanda—Amanda had said Negan had problems with Simon, that the man was giving him chills, and Rick was beginning to see the reason more.

"Simon did it?" Amanda asked, possibly thinking the same.

The redhead nodded. "He and his friends."

"What happened then?" Rick questioned further.

"We found this place, walking in the woods. It's an old camp site. I think it used to be a sort of yoga camp or something like that, secluded from the city—a place people used to go to find themselves, go to…heal—" she said as her eyes flickered toward Amanda, "It healed us," she continued, "kept us safe, kept us hidden. The beach also feeds us, so we stayed. We grew. Found weapons, learned how to use them, learned how to protect ourselves, and swore that we'd keep our home hidden from outside world."

"Like Amazons?" Beth said aloud, her voice carrying a wonder, and Frankie shrugged.

There was the same wonderment in the other's look, too, but Amanda faintly narrowed her eyebrows a second later, her forehead getting even more covered with sweat as she still rested along the wall at her feet. He'd offered her one of the chairs before, but she'd declined, saying she was going to stand up. He took the empty chair beside him and carried it toward her. Amanda gave it a look, and then shook her head again in refusal.

His eyes squinted more—realizing that she—she was avoiding from sit down. She—she'd groaned with her when he'd squeezed her ass, lifting her up in his head, and had been standing up still resting against a wall or a tree since they had found each other.

Thoughts turned in his mind even worse as he held the chair's back, his knuckles turning white. Amanda turned to Frankie, "You've been at Sanctuary for a while," she questioned, giving the women a look, turning away from Rick, "How that happened?"

"Tanya and I were the supply runners," the redhead woman started explained, "We scarcely make many supply runs. We have food, and the camp already had a big stock of supplies, and we need other stuff. Like medicine, like machinery. So, a year ago or so, one day we went out. Then it sorted of turned to a disaster, and we got stranded. Saviors found us. We didn't understand they were them at first. Nor they did. We pretended we were some lost women in the wilderness. They brought the Sanctuary, and we saw Simon we understood where we were." She turned to Amanda and Beth, "You know the rest of the story."

"You say you can take us there?" Daryl asked, pointing an arm at her.

Frankie gave them a look, but this is the other woman, her friend, who answered the question this time, "Look, I still don't think it's good idea. Natalie wouldn't even get us back. You know how she's—" she told her fried, and turned to Rick, "My people—my people are very hostile to the strangers. Our rule is to kill anyone who learned about us. No exception. She would even think of us comprised, guilty by association."

"You say you got guns?" Rick said back. And they sounded like they knew how to use them. Seven outposts and three hundred and fifty-more people. Kingdom and Hilltop weren't going to enough for this. They needed new alliances. And they wouldn't do it sitting on their asses.

Rick didn't want another fuck up, didn't want another clusterfuck. They'd barely gotten out of this—not without suffering consequences, either. But those men—those men wouldn't leave them now. It was either them or their own group. As long as Sanctuary stayed, Alexandria would never be safe. And Amanda and Beth needed a place to stay hidden—and Amanda needed a place to heal…a secluded place—a safe haven near a beach where Rick would take care of her.

He turned to the arms, "What do you say?" he asked. The council wasn't here—but Rick still wanted to a voting.

"We need guns—and arms who know how to use 'em," Abraham answered.

Michonne nodded as well, as the others repeated. Rick turned to Frankie. "How we can get there?"

"It's twenty or so more miles at south," the redhead woman answered, "So we might need those cars."

# # #

It took a while to adjust the logistics, Abraham and others left to find another car, leaving Daryl and Beth, and the newcomers, and them in the cabin. They had decided to leave before the dawn as it'd better to go down there with light, not slip into their borders in the night like thieves. Rick didn't want to risk any open hostility, not this time. He—he needed those women.

After Abraham, Sasha and Michonne left, the others slowly started to ready to pass the rest of nigh in the cabin, getting the food, started sitting down all the while Amanda stayed up against the wall. Rick followed her example too, standing next to her in silence. As the night aged, Beth went to her side and handed her a big white pill with a bottle of water. Amanda took it wordlessly and gulped it. Rick could recognize those white, precious things from anywhere. Antibiotics. She was having antibiotic.

He walked to her closer and put his hand over her forehead. It burned across his palm. "You're running a fever."

She shrugged, running away her eyes. "It—it's okay. I'm…taking pills."

Rick nodded, giving a look around themselves, everyone trying to make themselves a place at the floor, everyone but Amanda. He took her hand and brought her the next room. She gave him a questioning look as he walked her to the corner, "It was getting crowded. I wanted to be alone," he said, and lowering himself on the floor, he started to pull her down, too, "Come, lay down with me."

He rested himself at the wooden siding, as Amanda slowly started kneeling down beside him, then twisting aside, she lay down on her side, resting her head over his lap, securing her back against the wall—and her hand crept at her back, and she pulled down the hem of her dress to cover herself as she folded her legs, his eyes catching a peek of whiteness before the moist fabric covered her ass and then Rick realized it fully, realized why she was always standing now—why she couldn't even sit…

His chest hurt so badly, his eyes prickling, hurting… He blinked back tears off his eyes as Amanda pulled his suede jacket closer around herself, still shivering.

Rick wanted to bang his head at the wall—rip something off—he wanted…he wanted to hit something, hurt someone… hurt that sonofabitch, the most horrible way possible. And he couldn't even do that. "Amanda—" he whispered at her, his voice so rough, words like beads of glass stuck in his throat, "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

She swallowed faintly before she spoke, "It's okay…" she said back softly, facing at the wall, her head still over his lap, "It wasn't your fault."

No, it wasn't, but it was his responsibility. She was his wife, his to protect, cherish, and love. What a kind of husband let his wife live through this? "But it was my responsibility," so he told her, bowing his head to looked at her, "I'm your husband. It's my duty to protect you." She lifted her head up at him, "I couldn't… Couldn't protect you. Couldn't save you. I failed you. I'm sorry."

She shook her head, "You—you saved me, Rick," she whispered at him, her hand rising to touch at his cheek, "He—he told me—he told me he took me away from you. He was wrong," she whispered, "You were with me… You were inside me. It was you—I—" she breathed out, her eyes still fixated on him, "I felt you. Felt you inside me doing it—something was raging in me, and it was _you_…" Rick stared at her, leaning down further over her as she whispered over his lips, "You're a piece of me, baby, always with me."

He touched at her lips—gently—She…she was a piece of him, too—keeping him sane and intact, not shattered—losing himself.

Beth walked in them just right moment—and stopped seeing them. "I—I—" Lifting his head, Rick looked at the younger woman and saw a bottle of antiseptics and bandages. Amanda swallowed again, her eyes tearing—understanding she had nowhere to run away now.

"I—" Beth said, "I—we should change them before you sleep," she said, "In the woods, they might've gotten dirty. You know what the doctor said."

Rick extended his hand out. "It's okay. I do it. Gimme 'em."

Amanda gulped, but stayed in silence. Seeing her silence, Beth walked to him, and handed the antiseptic and the bandages. When they were alone, he bowed his head, and looked at her, silently crying, laying over his lap. Placing down the sanitary kit, he wiped her tears with his hand. "Baby—"

"I don't want you to see me like this, Rick—" she cut him off with a whisper, "I—"

"I'm your husband—" he cut her off, too, "Baby, please, let me… You don't have anything to be ashamed of." His hand caressed her burning, moist skin, "I'm your husband. We have to be there for each other through the good and bad. Please, let me take care of you. Let me at least do it."

With his words, her tears broke even more—and she twisted around, and started mounting over his lap, rising herself along his torso, their chests pressed together. She loosely wrapped her arms around him, resting her forehead on his shoulder, hiding it at the crook of his neck as she placed her ass over his knees for him.

Breathing out to steady his shaking hands, he lifted her dress's skirts—preparing himself… He—despite his best efforts, his hand started shaking again as he started peeling off the dirty bandages as she whimpered in his arms with little groans. A vehement hiss, a sharp intake of breath ushered out of him when his eyes caught the sight—and for a second everything went black, he stopped even breathing.

Red—so red—angry slashes were covering her skin—the lacerated skin—over the cheeks of her bottom under the back of her hips—even running slightly over her thighs. Her small, round ass was the worst, the color of red—Rick tightened his arms over her upper body—pulling her closer to his chest as she started crying openly. His own tears broke too, pricking inside his red eye sockets, and kissed her hair, tightening his arms even further. "No one—_no one_ would ever lay a finger on you, baby. No one. I promise," he whispered at her fiercely. No one. Never again. Never again.

Her forehead still at his neck, she nodded in silence.

He started cleaning her scars—pouring the antiseptic over her skin—and her fingers digging at his arms, she buckled over him—loudly groaning—almost screaming, "Hold on, baby—" he whispered her, cleaning the skin—burning her further, "It's almost done."

She started crying even worse, started shaking uncontrollably with pain as he felt a moist over his neck. He poured the antiseptic over her other cheek, pulling her back again over his lap as she started sliding to the floor over from him… "Shsss—almost done—" he told her again, resting her over his lap, and bent her a bit down so he could see her ass clearer again. "Just hold on. I'm covering it again," he told her, picking up the bandages—and bowing his head, he gave a little kiss at her shoulder.

She snugged at him further in response—completely as if she wanted to get inside in him and hide herself—where she knew she would be safe—He covered her skin with bandages quickly and lowered her skirt down and settled her over across his lap, careful not touch her ass. He caressed her again as she nested across him— "Go to sleep now, baby—" he told her, starting playing with her hair, and she stayed there still, laying across his lap, her tear and black eyeliner smudged and stained eyes and face starting losing her pained expression as he slowly played with her hair in silence.

Her eyes fluttered close as her breaths became deeper—her little whimpers turning into languorous breaths before she fell asleep. "I'm gonna kill every of them, Amanda—I promise," he slowly whispered at her as her eyes closed, his hands still going through her hair.

For the rest of night, Rick stared at the darkness inside the little room, listening to her breathing and imagining the ways to kill them—each of them—in the most horrible ways possible.

* * *

_Hey there, we finally have Oceanside, too! I think I got now all the Coalition; Hilltop, Kingdom, and Oceanside. Yay._

_And we also have a Rick as he tried to being a good husband, taking care of her-dealing with seeing her hurt, as Amanda dealt with her own struggles._

_Be safe, and be at home. My thoughts and prayers are with you._


	26. Chapter 26

XXV.

"Baby—" his voice called her softly as Amanda felt his callous palm across her cheek, "Baby—wake up—"

She gulped—breathing out—her mouth so dry, and still copper and metallic, but slowly opened her eyes. Even though the fever was still with her until the back of her eyes, it felt a bit better, and Amanda wasn't sure it was because of the pills she'd taken or because how she'd passed the night.

Between in his arms… laying over his lap as he softly played with her hair, luring her to sleep. Everything—the same very thing she felt ashamed of letting Negan do… but Rick—Rick was different.

He was her husband. _It's my duty to protect you… I'm your husband. We have to be there for each other through the good and bad…_

The old-fashioned words had broken something else in her too—but it was truly the man she'd loved, the family man she couldn't have helped herself but fallen in love. She'd had to then, had to tell him it'd been him, had to let him take care of her. She'd wanted it. She was so tired of questioning herself—her feelings—over analysising, she'd just wanted to live in the moment, forget her shame, forget her pain—had wanted him to take care of her—playing with her hair, caressing her cheek, his compassion and comfort melting her as she'd slowly fallen asleep, truly feeling like a baby.

His baby.

Sprawled out over him, she lifted her head and looked him. His face was so pale, and his eyes so red—moist and stern, his jaw squared despite the soft voice he'd used to wake her up. Amanda understood he hadn't slept last night, not a second. She knew Rick—as much as she knew herself now. He—he was still blaming himself—thinking off ways to make them pay for hurting her.

She—she had to pull herself back together. Every second she acted like a broken doll was making it harder for Rick—making him feel more as if he'd failed her, like in his nightmares. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let Rick feel like that. Never. She knew how it'd been hard for him after Lori—they'd never talked about it much—because Lori was still a sore point with her—she couldn't help herself—whenever her name mentioned, Amanda felt her old fears, but she still knew Rick. After her death, Rick had said he'd turned into a mess—even had given up his gun for a while, to show Carl another world was still possible. It hadn't worked at the end, of course, it hadn't—but the inclinations were still there.

No. She wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn't going to let that bastard do this to them. She held his hand at her cheek and smiled at him faintly. "Mornin'—" she muttered, blinking against the newly raised sunlight, as if it was a normal morning, as if they hadn't passed a night in a small, filthy cabin, as if she hadn't had an ass covered with angry lashes.

"They came back—" he told her back with the same soft but firm voice, "We need to leave."

She nodded, started untangling herself from his arms, feeling a void inside her while doing it. She pushed the thought away, and stood up, bracing her hand on the wooden siding of the cabin, and let out a breath. Everything still hurt, still burned, but she—she had to suck it up.

They still had a lot of to do—a war to win. She-they needed to go back home, return their own lives. This—this wasn't their life. She wanted her _life_ back, go back and play with Judith, snark with Carl, make them cookies… _That_ was her life, not this, she saw it so clearly.

She heaved out another sigh…and her stomach started again—and she closed her eyes—morning sickness—even now—she was hit by morning sickness. She'd vomited last night—couldn't have helped herself—but it hit her worse—mixed with fever, and she rushed out of the room toward the cabin, stumbling at her feet, and threw herself out before she hurled up.

Rick found her beside the cabin outside where she was bent down emptying her stomach. After she finished, he handed her a bottle of water, and gave it to her. "You 'kay?"

She let out a bitter snort, couldn't help herself, "Yeah…I'm _so_ okay, Rick—have never been more okay all in my life—" God, she was so tired—so tired—so tired of everything.

Rick gave her a look, and but instead of getting annoyed with her like he usually did, his eyes still held that understanding expression—compassion, and she gulped—shaking her head, feeling like a bitch—"I'm so—sorry. I'm just—tired."

He came to her, and held her cheek again, "I know…"

Her eyes half closing, she leaned toward at his palm, a low whimper dropping off of her, close to a purr…and she really wanted to be in his arms again… Mentally, she shook her head as Rick took a step closer to close their distance and leaned over her for a kiss… She pulled back. They—they needed to stop this…this lovey-dovey things and started fighting. Get up and fight, her mind was telling her, and she couldn't do it as long as Rick gave her these looks, held her like this—caring—soft but firm—her husband taking care of her… She felt getting herself…wet…couldn't help it—a tug throbbing inside with need—and she imagined herself being under him—squirming, trashing…begging…

God! She was pathetic!

She rested herself at the cabin outside siding as Rick gave her a searching look, his eyes squinted, as he stared at her carefully. She gulped. "We—we should—" She shook her head, gulping through a lump her dry throat, trying to sort of her thoughts, "You heard what Frankie said last night. She said it was Simon who did it—killed their men."

Every male above the age of ten. The redhead's words had made Amanda shiver last night—understanding that she'd been right all along about this Simon. He—he was worse than Negan. Negan had been sadistic, enjoying bringing others to submission, wasn't caring to infect pain onto others while doing it so, either, but Simon…no. Simon didn't have such kinds of…hobbies.

If you didn't kneel to him, if you caused him problems—then you were no good to him. You either obeyed or died, and perhaps Negan's brutality had been even a part of Simon too—talking to him in a language the other bastard would've only understood, making known that Negan could've gotten very—brutal as well.

And as sick as it was—it'd worked—barely—Simon always testing the waters, but it'd worked. Until she'd gone and killed Negan out of blue.

God, she was an idiot!

She shook her head, "I shouldn't have done it—shouldn't have killed him," she muttered.

Rick's eyes lost his softness, "What do you mean?"

"Simon—Simon is worse than Negan, Rick, and I opened up the way to him—" she answered, and paused, letting a big breath out, "Back at Grady, the only reason why we put up with Dawn this long was because of Gorman," she tried to explain, "Gorman wasn't wanting to take our responsibility, granted, but we didn't want him to take our responsibility as well. He was cracking up, and I was afraid the stress of leading would've gotten him worse. When Beth managed to kill him with Joan—it…changed things. Negan is dead now, and it's changing things too. But we don't know how, but I know it isn't gonna be better for us. Simon is worse." She shook her head again, "I acted on impulse, without thinking. Shouldn't have done it."

His eyes grew even sterner, "You mean you should've let him do this to you!" he rasped out.

Her eyes snapped at him, widened—she—she hadn't meant that! And…and she'd let him—hadn't she—she had let the bastard do it to her… "No!" She inhaled out, "No… Of course not. I—I just might've made things worse for us," she confessed, "I'm afraid."

He walked to her closer, "Amanda—" he told her then, placing his hand over his cheek again, "Him—or this Simon-or them—all Saviors… I don't care. I'm gonna kill each of them—I'm gonna make them regret. One way or another."

She gave him a look, "Rick—there're three hundred and fifty-more people there… Not all of them can't be bad…There other people too—workers, clerks…" she told him in return, remembering the eyes that turned away in shame and fear seeing her walking in the corridor, because they couldn't see her like that, "I mean—we—we couldn't have made it out if Frankie and other hadn't helped us."

But Rick shook her head, "Frankie and others did something. Acted. You—you survived Grady, acted—tried to do something, too, didn't give up or accepted it," Rick said back, his voice getting firmer too, "They—they just let a tyrant rule over them. They either do something about it, or they're our enemy, too." His eyes stared at her, "They can't play on my compassion, Amanda. I won't let them. Not after what he did to you, not after what _they_ let him to do…" He let out a sharp breath, and shook his head, too, "There will be no mercy."

After the words, Amanda stared at him back, wondering what she'd really started.

# # #

The others brought clean clothes with them, Amanda took them—her eyes grateful, but a shade covered them a second later. Rick hated to see it—hated her seeing like this—looking at her trousers to seize if she could get in them. She almost never wore skinny jeans—her trousers were always simple combat trousers—old uniform or the black pants, but as she gazed at the new loose fit trousers, Rick understood her reluctance.

She—she couldn't get into them.

He sharply exhaled again, seeing her like this—even warily looking at trousers made the beast inside roar again—recalling how he'd passed the last night as she slept in his arms… They had hurt her. Not only they'd taken her from him, they'd hurt, watched her—done thing. And she'd asked him to show mercy…

No. There was no mercy left in him. It all had died last night when he'd seen Amanda like that.

He was going to burn the fucking place to the ground. Kill them all in the most horrible ways. First Simon, then others. Then they would have peace.

He turned to the redhead woman. He wondered how much she knew, what he would use from them. They got even more intel now, much more than Dwight and Cherry as Frankie and others had been close to Negan and Amanda had mentioned Negan had liked to boast, liked talking. Frankie seemed like a smart woman—had eyes glinting with intelligence Rick could see it from the first glance. If he was correct in his assumption, and if Amanda was correct in her assumptions, then the woman might have learned quite a lot about Saviors during her long stay with them.

They needed to talk but it was going to wait. Later. It was a bridge for later to cross. First, they needed to deal with Oceanside. He turned to the other woman with brown hair, the one Amanda had called as Tanya, "You said last day it's against the rule to take strangers in and kill anyone who learned about their whereabouts."

The brown-haired woman nodded. "The secrecy is our sacred rule—what has kept us safe. Natania—"

"Is she the leader?" Amanda asked, walking toward them after she'd placed the clothes on the ground.

Tanya nodded, "She's. She was our leader's wife. When Simon had killed him with others, Natania took care of us."

"Will she accept to talk with us?" Rick asked.

Frankie narrowed at her eyes walking to them either. "Well, I thought we were going to find them. She might—might not like it, but she will listen it."

"And what if she won't let us leave then? Or decide to kill us?" Amanda asked back.

They got guns… That'd been his answer to Tanya the last night when the woman had told about the rule—and Rick's priorities hadn't changed since then, only grew firmer. They needed guns. But they also needed arms to hold them just like Abraham had said.

Rick shook his head then, "We have to try—" he said, "But we won't walk into a trap. We'll meet in a neutral zone—" He turned aside, pointing at Frankie and her other woman, "You'll take one of the cars and will go talk with Natania and others, and ask them to meet us outside. We'll wait for you."

Frankie gave him a look, "At where?"

Rick shrugged. "We'll pick up a place in the woods. So, you can all come back."

"So, you will know where to find us closer," she shot back.

"I already know you're twenty miles at south," Rick snapped, raising his voice, "And I know it because _you_ told me."

Amanda's eyes turned to him, her lips had a turn down he was familiar with, "Look—are we going to do this or not?"

Despite the turn of her mouth, she walked closer to him, "He's right, Frankie. You told us about them." And the woman had done. Their eyes meeting, they exchanged a look, "I know you hated him as much as I did, Frankie."

Curtly, the woman nodded, "I hate Simon even more," she told the back, "I'll talk with Natania. But I'm not making any promises."

In acceptance, Rick gave her a nod back.

As they prepared to leave, he found Abraham together with Daryl and Beth. Amanda beside him, they walked toward them. "How was back home?" Rick asked the ex-soldier.

"Nothing happened yet—" the ginger head answered, "But told them to be careful, don't act like idiots. Michonne wanted to stay back, too."

Rick nodded. It was better. Alexandria might have needed Michonne, and Rick—well, Rick didn't want her to be near Amanda now—not when Amanda was like this. He didn't want to make her more worried—ashamed of her injuries, especially if they took refugee in a secret hidden bay. No. Rick wanted her to relax and forgot about her ordeal, he hadn't wanted her to think about what she'd talked to him this morning!

No… He only wanted to keep her safe; protected, cherished, well-cared. Then they would return back home. Where they belonged.

He already missed Carl and Judith, knowing that he'd left them alone. Knowing that maybe today that son of bitch would come looking for Amanda and Beth and—and would hurt his children-? For punishment…? Both Daryl and Rick were away—the bastard wouldn't think of it as a coincidence. But they were fighting back—not yet, Simon hadn't known what they were up to, even though he didn't think it as a coincidence there was no proof that Alexandria had been involved directly. Hell, no one even had seen them in Sanctuary. There was no proof that Rick or Daryl or Rick was involved, as well.

But could he count on the other maniac bastard to be that reasonable? Negan had a way to draw around himself the worst kind of the people—rotting each other in the meanwhile even further.

He needed to get back to Alexandria, after he settled Amanda safely Oceanside. He needed to see it with his own eyes.

As they started loading the vehicles, Amanda found him again. She was still wearing her dress, just like he'd correctly thought—couldn't even put on her trousers back, her legs only covered with sheer stockings. He hated it but it was still better than alternative. She'd changed into boots from her broken heeled shoes, so she'd at least have warmer feet. Over her dress there was now a thick leather jacket trimmed with fur inside, her hand holding his own black jacket.

"They brought me another jack too—" she said, holding in her hand rising on her tiptoes to reach him she started putting it on him, "Here—" She held the zipper and pushed it up too until his collar, lifting her head looking at him, "Warmer."

His wife was taking care of him too. He smiled at her, touching at her cheek again.

She leaned against his touch automatically. Her face-eyes were cleaner now. She'd cleaned the residue of her make up after she'd waken up—color was coming back to her skin too—she looked much better now, as if a night passed with him had made miracles on her, seeing her like this—like how she was supposed to be—it uncurled the knot inside his stomach a bit—he felt the tension over his shoulders lessening.

Smiling shyly at him, she stepped back then, and they walked to the cars as Rick took her hand again. He was never going to leave her hand again. Never let her slip off from him.

# # #

They'd been waiting in the woods for a half an hour.

Both Frankie and Tanya had gone, leaving Nicole, Amber and Mark behind with them, and Amanda was trying to silence the little voice in her head telling her they—they might have been double-crossed.

Though, she couldn't find any reason for it. Frankie must have her own grudge for Negan and Simon, her own reasons to want them gone. Otherwise, she should've never told them about her former community. Rick had been right. Though, they'd been tensed, and there was Tanya's own words too—not knowing if they would've been expected even them.

Maybe—maybe this Natalia would just kill the long absent women and be done with it, not wanting to risk it. Rick had a point not wanting to go to there. He'd wanted to wait until the dawn, hadn't done any ambush, hadn't done any attack, but he was still playing safe.

Amanda—Amanda didn't know—she was—she was just getting tired—more and more each day as Rick grew even more…ruthless.

_There will be no mercy_… his words echoed in her mind… Rick had never been a man of…very merciful, he could get quite harsh and callous, merciless, to any threat who hurt his family, and she could only image what he'd felt seeing her like this—but…she didn't know. Not all people who lived there could be bad. She—she had used to live at Grady—a place as equally fucked up… Three hundred and more people. They couldn't kill all of them…

All in frankness, she still wanted to go back home, and forget ever learning about Saviors. She really wanted her life back. She wanted to take care of her babies, take care of her husband—even putting his jacket had made her feel so good… a warmness spreading over her, in her, and she knew it wasn't the fever… No, her core had been throbbing as he'd looked at that way outside the cabin… and as images filled in her, it only got worse… Rick fucking her senseless, fucking her mercilessly, then lay her across his lap, spent and worn out, and lure her into her sleep playing with her hair softly just he'd done like last night.

She wanted it—she wanted it so much even now, perhaps waiting for an ambush she was getting wet—even when her ass was still burning with pain—she was dreaming him fucking her, she couldn't help it…her juices started leaking through her G-String over her naked inner thighs.

She shivered.

God, she was really pathetic. A sinister snicker laughed in her mind… _I told you, doll, you need men like us to fuck your brains out—you can't function otherwise… A man to fuck you good, then lay you over his knees…caress your hair… No one caressed your hair before, eh? _

She shivered again, hearing the words. No—no. It was only her own imagination…talking to her… Which didn't sound right, either.

Tears came to her eyes… She was losing her mind… She was.

Perhaps it was really hormones… they were doing weird stuff on her. Her hand touched at her stomach again, feeling her bulge. She—she had to keep it together. Her babies needed her. She—she shouldn't be like this. She had to be strong.

She turned around and looked at the others. Sasha and Abraham were standing away from them, resting against a tree, talking to each other in whispers. Beth and Daryl were seated behind them, close to each other, Daryl's arm protectively around her shoulder. The former wives and the former guars were sitting down as well, their heads bowed, in waiting—like questioning how they had ended up here.

Amanda wondered if they were regretting it—if they—they thought they should've stayed back where they knew it was safe. Not everyone was a fighter. Amanda had accepted that a long time ago. But everyone wanted to live. In Sanctuary there were people like Negan and Simon, and there were still people like Amber and Mark.

Amanda turned to Rick then, "What if they won't come back?" she finally asked looking at the tree line, "What we will do?"

"I want those guns," he only said, adjusting the string of his rifle, "And I'm gonna get them—" A little pause, "One way or another."

Amanda barely held a sigh inside.

Before she could say anything back though, she heard the footsteps over the forage—the sound of branches breaking and dry leaves crunching. Daryl was at his feet before anyone else, his crossbow already in his hand, alert. Rick had raised his own rifle too in response, in waiting.

A second later, out of the tree line Frankie and Tanya had emerged. They were walking slowly with careful steps, and behind them there was another woman—an old woman walking with them.

Amanda felt relief run through her body.

Rick lowering his rifle again and took a step forward to indicate he was the leader—and waited them to arrive in front of him.

When they arrived, Frankie made the introduction, as Amanda stepped next to Rick as well, others circling them at the same. "Natania, this is Rick Grimes," Frankie said placidly.

The old woman should be around in her early sixties, with clear big blue eyes, as hard as Rick's, and even a harder expression. "Frankie said you're asking for our help."

Rick nodded, "Aye."

"And what do you offer in return, Rick Grimes."

"Revenge."

"You fought with Saviors and lost."

"We fought—" Rick countered.

"And lost—" the old woman repeated.

"And we'll try again," Rick only said back.

"Until they're all dead or you—?"

A shiver passed through her again, and Amanda wanted to yell, NO! No. They—this—everything—they—this wasn't their life. Felt wrong. They—had to return to their own life…

But Rick nodded, and confirmed, "Until they're all dead or us."

"Very well, then—" the old woman nodded back, then lifting her head, "Girls—" she shouted, "Take them."

Suddenly women—perhaps more than thirty in all ages ushered out of the woods from every direction—their clothes camouflaged in the trees just like the wild Amazon warriors they were.

* * *

_I thought we could get to Oceanside with this chapter, but I'm feeling so down and tired today to make a detailed plan for those parts._

_But the good thing is that we're getting to Rick's "no mercy" stand point with dealing with the rest of the Saviors as in Season 8 before Carl's death as Amanda gets more worried for him and more like...you know, um, "treat me like a queen, fuck me like a whore" Sorry for the language. Didn't know how to put it better. Eh. _


	27. Chapter 27

**I'm so tired now, I hope my grammar isn't _worse_ than my usual in this chapter. If it's, please, let me know. I promise I'll proofread it tomorrow! God, I really hate doing proofreading!**

XXVI.

Their eyes blindfolded, they made them walk in the woods toward their hidden campsite. The leader ordered their guns to be confiscated, too but let their hands untied, a fact Rick had decided to take as a good sign.

The woman had come, paranoid or not, but they had come. He just needed to convince her to ally with them now. He never waited a warm welcoming party approaching a new group, whether they had someone who would breach contact or not, even at Hilltop they had played safe. The women's protectiveness made sense, and Rick was also glad in a way, because it meant those women weren't really idiots. No idiot would've managed what they'd done this far.

He only wondered about Amanda, her eyes blindfolded, she would've freaked out again after her ordeal. He'd had to give up on his grip on her hand while they'd covered their eyes, but Rick knew she was still walking beside him—he could smell her scent. He didn't know how exactly had happened what had happened to her—how that sadistic bastard had tortured her—he _knew_ what had happened—but the circumstances were filling him even with more dread. He'd spent the last night thinking ways to kill them because if he hadn't, his mind would've thought of it then—what Negan exactly had done to her…?

Had he—had he tied to her the bed—blindfolded her—and then whipped her ass…? The thought sent a gigantic wave of hatred and fury all through him again—imaging her like that—suffering, in pain—His breath stopped in his chest again—the vision under his covered her eyes almost made him stumble on his steps and drop on his knees.

No. He had to be strong for her. Finish this and take her back to home. Where she belonged.

Leaning aside, his hand waved in the air blindly, the urge to hold on her rising in him strong, he had to—he had to make sure she was right here, just beside him. His fingers touched a hand and he knew it was hers, he could even recognize the light callousness across insides of her fingers that had been caused by handling guns and weapons for years. He grasped her hand, and squeezed it, and in return Amanda did the same.

The gesture calmed him down a bit—the way she squeezed his hand back in assurance as if she wanted to give him support too—her beautiful brave wife, always a fighter, unyielding.

They'd been walking at least half an hour, but Rick knew they had to be close now. They possibly had been trying to lengthen the way to confuse them, but Rick didn't care. If necessary, he could've found the way to their compound. He didn't want it, but he could, even if he would've needed to search through these woods by inch and inch. He was going to have those guns. One way or another. But he didn't want to that, either. He wanted people to fight with those bastards, didn't want to fight with everyone. He only wanted to eliminate that threat against them, so they could return to their own life—the life Rick had promised them. A better life.

Suddenly they made them stop and a hand on his back forced him to bend down, and Rick felt the leaves brushing against his hair—then Amanda yanked off her hand away from him—and made out loud gasp— "No—No!" she almost shrieked, and Rick heard the terrified panic in her voice yet again.

The panic rose in him, too, as he realized she'd reacted because they were forcing her to bend down as well…and…and—even his covered eyes blackened out—the world slipping him away from him… That was how the bastard had done it…? The thought ran in his mind wild—imagining Amanda bending down toward the fucking sonofabitch—revealing him to herself—in her dress with G-string and stockings underneath—revealing herself to the maniac to whip her ass.

It was too much—just too much—

"Don't touch her!" his voice shouted as his hands rose to his eyes, and he pushed over his blindfolds. The women were protesting, rising their guns and spears at the same time. Rick didn't care. He didn't fucking care. No one was going to lay a finger on her ever again. Turning aside, the guns and spears still pointed at him, he grabbed her, straightening her back and uncovered her eyes as well.

He stared at her as she blinked at him unfocused, "It's okay—" he whispered, holding her arms tightly, "I'm here."

She trembled, but nodded, letting out a deep breath. His eyes moved to Natania who just stood a couple of feet away from them as they stood circled by her people, watching the scene—and Rick talked to her, "You're not blindfolding her again."

The old woman gave him a curious look, "What happened to her?" she asked back.

Rick only looked at the woman back in answer. She motioned at a short brown-haired woman around Amanda's age, then the woman walked closer to them—and pointed the wall of brushes in front of them they were standing.

Looking at it, Rick realized it was a secret hidden passage.

"Get on your knees and move to the other side—come on!"

Taking Amanda's hand back, he tossed at her a glance—as if to ask if she could do it, and in answer she slowly dropped on her knees, her hand still in his.

Rick followed her example too, and leaning down at the same, they put on their connected hands on the forage and started crawling towards the other side.

The others followed them too, he saw Beth crawling after him for the third, Daryl quickly under her heels, and Abraham and Sasha.

At the other side, the scenery had started to change too. He saw the first bungalow a couple of yards away, in a faded watery green, the old wooden sidings and doors aged, but still standing.

From their last side, he saw a small bridge over a narrow, weak creek, and beside it there was an open furnace—a fire burning it. Around it, there was a circled stone and wood sitting area. He understood it was the campsite's open fire community area.

There were other sitting areas too—and big wooden picnic tables—the campsite looked like big, having its own creek, even a playground, and with an open clear space for yoga. He knew it because the old signs in the compounds were still standing, pointing the ways inside the camp.

Around them, there were also gardens—everywhere, fields of crops, and greens, even a couple of chickens and a cock. He even saw dogs and cats. All things considered, it was a pretty much amazing sight, and Rick was fairly impressed, almost as much as he'd been surprised with Kingdom.

Then slowly, they started coming out of the cabins…all of them…women in all ages.

Even the children were holding spears in their hands, looking all fierce much like the grown-ups. Rick assumed their own struggles with Saviors and the battle against the dead had hardened them to this point, another observation he took gladly.

Natania motioned at the other short-haired woman, "Beatrice—" she ordered, "Take them inside." The younger woman pushed him at his back forward toward the biggest structure at the far corner of the campsite, a tall, wooden building with two floors where the community possible gathered together inside.

Taking Amanda's hand again, Rick started walking, as Natania also said, "Get Cyndie from the beach."

Rick wondered how was this Cyndie was, but the old woman had also wanted her to be present, Rick surmised she must've been someone important. Inside, there was a big heart too at the corner of the spacious hall and low wooden plank seats were circling against the walls, soft cushions over them. At another corner, there were some old-fashioned music instruments, she saw drums, bells, and a guitar.

It almost looked cozy, even empty, and it was warmer too, big chunks of woods burning in the heart with cracks.

Frankie and Tanya had come with their own friends, and Amber, the youngest of the women, was looking around with an open admiration. Daryl and Beth came beside them, Daryl giving a look around him. "They did all this on themselves?" the hunter asked, and in his voice, Rick also heard the same impression he'd felt.

They needed to get these women on board. Frankie and Tanya walked to them then, "I'm sorry it had to be this way," the redhead woman started, "But I'm glad you didn't make a scene."

"I understood their reluctance, but they have to listen to us," Rick said.

"Natania is an old stubborn woman, and she's already lost too much. Her husband, her son, and her grandson," she explained, "But her granddaughter, Cyndie, is still here. She's her second in command. If she supports your cause, Natania will be more inclined to listen."

Rick nodded. Natania walked in the hall then, together with a dark wavy-haired girl, looking at them suspiciously as well.

"Frankie said you're also looking for a refugee to hide," the old woman stated, her clear eyes staring at them hard.

"Yes—" Rick admitted, "My wife—she killed Negan. She can't return to our community now. They will look for her."

"They might already started looking for her—you two brought her here—" the last words were directed at Frankie and Tanya, "Not only you broke our rules, told strangers to our home, but also brought someone that's wanted by Saviors."

Frankie opened her mouth, but Amanda cut in, taking a step forward, breaking their hands, "We didn't come only for a refugee," she said back, "We're here to ask help."

"Yeah—" Natania nodded, and pointed with her head at Rick, "Revenge." She shook it then, "Revenge is good, I won't deny, but staying alive is more important now. We already lost so much."

Rick shook his head back at her. "They're going to find you. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but one day. You can't stay forever in hiding. You can't. You have to fight."

"We already fought once!" Natania shouted, "And lost—lost so much."

"We already fought, too, and lost—we suffered the same. That's not an excuse."

The old woman shook her head again, "No. But this—" she waved her hand around her own people, "this's an excuse!"

Rick gave her a hard look, and repeated what he'd told Deanne months ago, what he'd kept telling all Alexandria, "You don't fight, you'll die. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day."

Amanda spoke after him, too, "If you don't want to fight, why did you even come to meet with us?" she asked.

"Frankie and Tanya broke our rules," the woman answered flatly, "It's not allowed," she continued solemnly, "We need to decide what to do with you."

# # #

Once again she was under locks. Though at least her hands were free this time, and their guards seemed to be a better company. The short-hair woman, Beatrice, and another two was standing at post outside the hall, holding the door.

If they wanted to break it, they would've done it, but she was an escape attempt would've made things only worse. They were standing close to each other in the room, and Amanda let out a sigh. "You said this Cyndie would be more open to listen us. Can't we talk with her?"

Frankie shook her head. "She was already here. That was her, the black wavy hair woman, standing beside Natania. She already listened," she explained, "I might try to look for her, but they don't trust me, either. We have to wait. Cyndie will find us herself."

There was a certainty in her words that made Amanda's eyebrow arched. She shared a look with Beth, trying to gauge her reaction. Beth was the one who had convinced them, the one who had passed most of the time together in Sanctuary, but there was a wariness in her wide blue eyes as well. Amanda hoped the woman was wrong, this Cyndie would come to find them. Natania didn't look like she could be reasonable, and Rick—well, Rick was getting worked up. _Until they're all dead or us… I want those guns, and I will get them. One way or another._

They both were slipping off. They needed to cool down. She recalled her own reaction when they'd forced her to bend down, almost having another break down. She'd taken rather well when they'd blindfolded her, knowing that Rick was beside her, and felt even better when somehow he had managed to find her hand and his fingers clasped hers, but when the hand at her back had tried to force her down, she'd almost it—the sheer panic jumping on her. She—she had tried not to react, keep her head cool, but at the end, she just couldn't have.

She—she was still on pins and needles, whether she got Rick beside her or not. She needed time to recuperate, Rick knew time to sit on it as well, they both needed time, and they didn't have it.

There was no time. Everything happened so fast anymore in their world, one shit piling up on another without no time to catch their breaths.

Perhaps they shouldn't have done it. It was still too early, too early to smart something like this. Rick had wanted to go back to home and take a breath off when they had learned that they were going to have twins, and even ended up her hands tied up—giving herself to him completely just like she'd dreamed, just like the damn bastard had dissected her.

Rick had even told her they needed it, that it came to him good, felt like he was keeping her safe and Amanda hadn't quite understood the words then, and she still couldn't. It was dangerous, playing with fire. She knew it. She'd accepted it because she'd trusted him, she trusted him more than anyone—anything in this world—and she'd wanted it—wanted it so desperately, but she still couldn't understand…

Did he—did he want her like this—subdued, submissive, like Negan had wanted her too. Owning her? Tanya had said the bastard had his kinks got out of it—but Rick—Rick wasn't like him… No. Rick wasn't like them. He was a good man, a sucker, but all of this…it was just too much, and they—they needed to take a breath off, perhaps talk, really _talk_…but scars were too raw, and still cutting so deep, and there was no time.

There was no fucking time.

They needed to do this, finish this, before everything turned worse.

She fucking hated it! Was it really too much to ask for a reasonable normal life in this shithole fucked-up world? The doctor—then she remembered again—the thought cutting her like a red flash.

That man—if he hadn't done what he'd done—if he'd come to them, perhaps she should've been at her home now, laying with Rick in the morning, fooling around, his hand on her bulging stomach, trying to get a downtime before Judith would wake up—Rick waking her, his other hand creeping between her legs inside her pajamas like he usually did.

And how she had missed it! That was Rick too, the same man who had tied her hands and fucked her brains out, the very man who woke up like this, sometimes even tickling her playfully, she remembered how he'd called her his big, fretting, peevish baby, and she wanted both, both sides of him—she wanted all of him.

She just wanted him.

Her eyes found him again, and a myriad of emotions, emotions she couldn't handle anymore wash over her again, and without knowing what else do, she let the waves ride over her, and waited until they passed.

True to Frankie's words, Cyndie came to find them half of an hour later, and Amanda felt a bit better. The young woman's gaze seized them heavily, weighing up and down but when she started speaking it was first directed to Frankie and Tanya, "We thought you dead—" the woman said, then walking toward them she—hugged them.

They all shared glances with each other seeing the women hugging each other, and Amanda felt relief stronger.

"Cyndie," Frankie started then, "You have to talk with your grandma," the redhead continued heated, "We can do this. Amanda here—" They waved her hand at her, "killed Negan," she said, and the black wavy-haired eyes turned to her too, and she nodded.

"I heard you're asking for refugee."

"I can't go back at home right now."

The woman nodded back. "She won't send you away—just because of that, because you killed him, but others—" she stopped. Her eyes narrowed, she moved towards them, "Others?"

The black-haired woman stayed in silence. Rick walked beside her, too, "We came here to talk you. If we wanted, we could've come and taken your guns. We didn't want that. We want you to fight with us."

"We already lost too much," the woman said back.

"That's not an excuse," Rick countered, "That's never an excuse. You're thinking you're safe here, hidden, but that's not true too. The world is still out there, and even though you kill us, you can't stay forever hidden. They will come for you one day."

For that, he was right too. Maybe not today, not tomorrow but one day. And that one day in their life was becoming shorter and shorter each passing day.

"He's right. It's inevitable," Beth said, taking a step further, "We escaped together with Frankie. If she didn't accept it, we couldn't have been here. We did together. We can do this together, too."

"We can _only_ do this together," Rick said, strong emphasis on only, recalling Glenn's words. They all had their differences, didn't even know their names truly, but if they didn't stay together, all of them was going to fall. Rick had seen it before, and talked Kingdom into this, so he just had to do it again now. "Look, we already have two other communities fighting with us, that fought beside us. We didn't have the numbers before, but we got the surprise effect, but someone betrayed us, and we lost," he explained more to the woman who looked like she was willing to hear as Amanda's face soured once again thinking of the doctor, "But we won't make the same mistake again. With your numbers, we should even the odds, and we'd find more guns too."

"We also have the intel—" he continued, "We were trying to three outpost at one, but Amanda learned there're seven outposts out there—" he turned to Frankie and other former wives, "You lived there more than a year. Do you know where they are?"

Amanda nodded at herself. The woman knew, Amanda was sure of it. The redhead wasn't an idiot. Negan had gotten a thing for talking, slipping off things while doing it, and a woman like Frankie certainly would've gathered the pieces.

"Mostly," the redhead admitted, too, "And I know which of them has got better arsenal too."

Satisfied with the news, Rick nodded, "This's the best time. Negan's death must leave a power vacuum behind before Simon would take the control back. If we start hitting their outposts, we'll rattle their cages, too."

Amanda remembered her first plan too. That had been what she had initially planned too when she had told Rick she should've stayed and gathered intelligence, and hit them, so they could've divided their power. That plan still should work, and would gain then a bit of time, as well.

Besides, it also should even out the numbers for real. "Rick's right. I was only there for two days but I know it was simmering underneath. People weren't happy. I don't think they would be happy with Simon, either. Perhaps even for worse." She turned to Frankie, "There must be a lot of people that hate Simon. People who would hate to see him taking the reins."

There must be. There always was. Even Grady was a mess of people digging at each other's back, and Sanctuary, she didn't even want to think all the power plays that surely were going in that place.

They just had to play smart now. Rick kept saying killing all Saviors, but—they needed inside help. Sanctuary was still strong, even with Oceanside, they might still too strong for them.

"Divide and conquer," Amanda told them, "Before we conquer them, we have to divide them," she explained, "Their numbers are still too much for us." Rick's face hardened at her words, but he was still listening to her, "Who hates Simon the most? Who would rather choose to deal with us instead of being under his command?"

There had to be someone. There always was someone. They'd found her, Beth giving them intel, they'd gotten her as inner help, and they'd avoided a bloodshed, taking down together. She was sort of ripping off Beth's plan now, but it was a good plan, and it'd worked before, and divide and conquer was the most used strategy all in history. She hadn't spent hours studying Sun Tzu for nothing.

They had to do this. They had to, then perhaps they could even make…peace with Sanctuary, and live. They—they couldn't kill three hundred and fifty-so people…wouldn't make a…genocide. There was already too much blood on their hands, she didn't want her damn conscience taint with that, either. No. Her quarrel was with Negan, with Simon, with all of those people who could make a change but hadn't. But if—if someone might want to try—Amanda would force herself to accept it.

She would hate it, yes, but then again, she could live with it better than the alternative.

Only she didn't know how Rick thought of that. _There will be no mercy…_

Well, all things considered, she wasn't talking about mercy, she was talking about…being practical.

She just wanted this…war end, and go back to her, resolve whatever that was her damn…struggles insides…resolve that thing inside her—that thing that made her want two opposites each time…one part wanting him treating her like a queen—taking care of her like she was the most precious thing in the world, while the other—well, the other part of her just wanted him to fuck her like she was a bitch in heat.

And it was so fucking frustrating!

"Laura—" Frankie said then, breaking over her thoughts, "She wasn't even happy how things were with Negan, but she hates Simon." She paused, "She's got her own outpost, too. A chemical plant. And I heard there's a rather large arsenal at her disposal, too."

Amanda nodded, "Then that's the first thing we have to do—" she said, turning to Rick, too, "We need to get this woman."

In return, Rick gave a long, long look in silence.

# # #

After Cyndie left them alone in the hall, informing them she was going to talk to their grandma, they all gathered back again. "Are we gon' do this?" Daryl asked, "Talk to this woman?"

Before Rick could say anything, Amanda beat it to her, "We have to. We need someone inside. We can't do this alone."

Rick shook his head, "No. It's too dangerous. There's no guarantee she won't betray us," he opposed, "We won't make the same mistake again." And he was going to. They weren't going to get sold out again. Hearing her voice over the radio calling at him was enough for him for a lifetime.

But Amanda was still not hearing him, "Rick," she started, "They still have the numbers. Even with Oceanside. We need something else to tip off the balance. We also lost the element of surprise too," she continued, and it all sounded very logical too, except that only Rick couldn't trust, couldn't trust anyone from that place. Frankie and others were different. They'd escaped with Beth and Amanda on their own, had chosen to act, and now they had no other option, too. They couldn't go back.

Anyone else wouldn't have these necessities, would betray them easily. "No. It's too risky."

"Of course, it's risky," Amanda said, "Look, you came asking my help at Grady," she reminded him. But it was different then. They—they hadn't so much to lose then, he—hadn't had so much to lose then. He hadn't had her. Not like _this_. His eyes glanced at her slight bulging stomach.

He shook his head, "This's different, Amanda," he said, "We do this, for good. We finish them for good."

The others were all looking at him, but staying out of it, were only watching them, as if they understood it was a decision, they knew was going to made up by them. The council wasn't here, they couldn't vote, but Rick didn't care. The council had come broken when Rick had tried to break Spencer's jaw. And this was still a security concern, something he could never bet on.

But Amanda shook her head again, "We already tried to finish it that way, and it didn't work—" she pressed on further, "Maybe we should change our direction approach and try something different."

Rick's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"Sanctuary is there, Rick," she told her, "It's our reality. It's also too big to fall. If we destroy it that would make three hundred and more people going out in the woods in despair, unless you plan a mass murder—" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

In answer, Rick only stared at her. "People who would have nothing to lose, looking a place for themselves. We'd have a real immigrant problem. Neither we nor our allies have the capacity to look after that much people, Rick. But if we let them off, despair would turn them into Wolves too. They have to stay at Sanctuary. Sanctuary still needs to stand," She paused, "We just—need to change its—management, someone who could be more reasonable."

Rick was still staring at her in disbelief. "Are you fucking serious?!" he shouted, "After what they did you?!"

"After what _Negan_ did to me!" she shouted back, "And _I_ killed him for that!" She let out a breath, "My quarrel is with Simon and all those people who support them, and all of those sonofbitches looked at me in that way, _laughing_, and only with them." She let out another breath, "For the rest, I just want to make peace."

"Peace?" Rick sputtered out, "Amanda—they're enemy!"

She threw her arms in the air, "And you can only make peace with enemy!" she almost shouted back.

At that moment, Natania returned with Cyndie and the other short haired woman, and their discussion interrupted. The woman gave them a look, "My people want me to hear you—want to fight. I think it's a mistake, but I'll listen to their wish," she announced slowly, as if words made her strangle in her throat, her blue eyes still on them, "But tomorrow morning we'll go to your home, too. You know ours, and we want to know yours, too."

His jaw clenched, not liking it, but he knew he couldn't deny her now. "Okay. I'll take you there the next morning."

"And they can stay here—" the woman continued, "We'll given them asylum."

He nodded. That was what they'd asked, a place where Beth and Amanda stayed hidden, but suddenly he felt like she was taken from him again… Mentally, he shook his head.

No. This was only temporary. And Rick would stay with her as long as possible. Tomorrow he would go back to Alexandria—today Simon should've already made an appearance. He needed to check back on home, as well. Check on Carl and Judith.

Rick wondered if the old woman would question them further on the plan, but she didn't, she left them saying they were going to prepare them cabins to pass the night, and then they will talk later.

Then she left.

When they were left alone, Rick looked at them, Amanda looking almost preparing herself for another talk with her, but before anyone said something, Beth did, "We—we should go and take a breath off. It was a long day for anyone. And I—I want to see the beach. We can talk later too."

Rick wandered his eyes on them, and saw Amanda also nodding, "I want to see the sea, too. It's been years since I heard sound of waves."

They—they needed to take talk—finish this—prepare… but—sitting on a beach with Amanda—

The image was so powerful, he found himself nodding. He wanted her there, sitting across over his lap at the beachside, her head on his chest—listening to the waves, playing with her hair as she did those sounds—close to purrs—at the back of her throat, getting calm down between in his arm—and he wanted to do to her much more than that—wanted to lay over the sand and have her—their eyes stuck at each other—Amanda begging at him silently with her body and eyes…

She couldn't have had her, not when she was hurt, but he at least could have her in his arms at the shore.

but Amanda shook her head. There had to be something else. They still couldn't win like this. Sanctuary still got more numbers, and—and Simon was a wild card even worse than Negan. Everything was telling her the same. There had been disturbance there, even Negan had admitted, accepted her offer.

After they showed them their bungalow, Rick took the blanket over the bed, and took her hand too with his other arm, and walked them out.

They found the beach after a ten or so minutes walk, the sounds of the waves slowly reaching to them as they approached. She tried to an attempt for a talk while walking, but Rick stopped, seizing her hand, telling her, "The sun's setting. I want to watch it."

The sun was setting, and Rick only wanted to watch the sunset with her now at the beach. They might never get another chance again. He didn't want to lose it. Their world so rarely gave them such opportunities.

At the beach, Amanda smiled big seeing the sea, and started running to the shore, laughing. They were nowhere else, Beth and Daryl should've found themselves another secluded corner much like Abraham and Sasha, and smiling at her, Rick walked to the shore, too, and started laying the blanket over the dry sand just above the shore, and walked toward her.

She was splashing water with the tip of her boots over the edge of the gentle waves, still laughing, "I can't believe this!" she exclaimed as Rick grew closer and kicked another wave at his direction.

Chilly water hit at him, and he shook his head at her, "Be careful, we just got your fever drop." She'd taken her pill before they'd left for the beach, and she pouted at him playfully, and made another splash, "Spoilsport."

Rick gave her a look, "Woman, don't make me come there and soak you until your panties."

"Pff—" she shot back, "My panties are _already_ soaked, Rick," she said, shrugging, and stopped understanding what she'd just uttered.

She looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite read—she looked embarrassed and flushed, as if she didn't know how to feel, so Rick walked to her without a word, and brought her to the blanket. Kneeling between her feet, he took off her boots, his head lifted up, looking at her while doing it, their eyes grew heated—and Rick—wanted… Mentally, he shook his head. They couldn't—She—she…her injuries. No.

He stood up, and kicked off his own boots and taking her hand, he stepped on the blanket and sat down in the middle, and tugged at her hand. "Come over here—" he said, pulling her down to make her lay over his lap again.

Without a protest, she lay down on her side, her head over his lap. His hand went over at her stomach then, playing with her small bump as his other hand started playing with hair as they watched the sunset in silence.

The air was getting colder, but they were getting warmer inside their jackets and in each other's embraces, Amanda started making those noises more, long languorous breaths pulling out of her, with content, satisfied, as his hands kept caressing her hair and her stomach.

"It's so beautiful—" she whispered, as the setting sun covered the horizon in a mystical purple and orange, a world full of wonders, beautiful.

They still lived in a beautiful world, Rick realized, despite all the filth, malice, and brutality, they still lived in a beautiful world. "I'm tired, Rick—I'm so tired of fighting," she whispered out as Rick bowed his head, and as her head twisted aside, her eyes found him upward, "I want it end, Rick. I wanna go home. Please. Promise me—" she demanded, her voice still a whisper, "Peace. Promise me peace, baby."

Peace.

His eyes moved up from her at the sunset, the beautiful mirage, then back at her, and whispered at her, bowing his head, "Peace—We'll have it, Amanda. I promise."

One way or another. They would have it.

# # #

It was a miracle, such a miracle, like the night they'd watched snowfall at the porch in the embrace and felt the same again—the wonder—and the peace—and she wanted it…she so fucking much wanted it.

And Rick promised her it, then she knew she was going to have it—one way or another.

She trusted him. She trusted no one but him.

# # #

He was behind her, she felt in her sleep, her back lightly touching at his chest, his arms wrapped around her—one arm under her neck—crooked over her chest, coiled under her armpit—his palm across her breast, his grip tight as if to make sure no one could take her away.

And it felt safe…so safe—she wanted it get tightened around her, tighter and tighter, almost choke her—she wanted it—something was clawing in her insides—that nameless thing—a wild beast—wanting—wanting—her eyes fluttered—and she whimpered—in sleep—she knew she was still sleeping, but she knew she was also awake—just going over the between the waking world and deep dark lands of sleep—barely conscious, but that thing was still in her…clawing, scratching, demanding…

And his other hand was at her lower abdomen, just under her bulging stomach, protectively, keeping their babies safe—and Amanda wanted it even lower—in her core—where everything was clawing at her—throbbing…

She heard her own whimpers—and her hips moved—and his hand moved down—but not yet—not yet…she wanted it closer—closer—burning—she was burning inside…everything was aflame… She shook her hips and his hand crawled closer on instinct and found where it belonged.

She let out a deep satisfied moan as if something in her finally clicked—covered—filling…something empty—_there is an emptiness in you feel nothing can fill_, the words faintly echoed in her brain, but she didn't listen to it…

She had Rick… Her hips started moving—she couldn't help it—she wanted it, wanted him deeper—where he belonged—her ass—her ass started burning too with motions but she didn't care either, she was burning at everywhere, she could barely registered it… the only thing she cared was that—his hand—it had to—it had to…

She crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs—moving herself—grinding at his hand over her dress—she wanted it… God, she wanted it…she tossed her back at his chest, moving more desperate, angling herself. She had to feel it—she had to—it was killing her…she leaned forward, her hand clutching at the arm coiled around her neck and chest, and she felt it—the tight squeeze down on herself.

She groaned loudly at the feel, grinding at his hand even more demented, as her eyes fluttered open, and she saw Rick—staring at her wildly, his hand still tightly fisted around her pussy.

Fully awake now, realizing what the hell she'd been doing in her sleep, she stared at him, frozen, hot, bothered, and ashamed—being caught like a real bitch in heat, trying to get herself off on his hand while sleeping.

God, could she get more…pathetic?

Then his hand slipped under her dress, and he ran his palm across her, over her wetness, "But you're soaked, aren't you, my little minx—" he breathed in her arm, and as his other arm tightened over her neck, she trembled, "Do it," he told her, his voice having that characteristic timber again, demanding, "Go on. Do it."

Her whole body trembled, "Do it, Amanda, come at my hand."

She shuddered again, and on her own accord, her hand crept over his to put it inside her, but he shook his head, their eyes still glued at each other, her head tossed back at his chest. His right hand moving up between her legs, he brought her hand over her chest and secured it under his other arm coiled around her chest. He took then her other hand at her side, and held it with his left hand, so she once again was trapped as his right hand crept back between her legs and slipped under her dress.

Then he stopped, "Do it," he ordered at her again, and Amanda started moving even without thinking.

# # #

She was…she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, grinding over his hand frantically, desperate to reach her climax as Rick just kept his hand over her folds and watched her as she squirmed, holding her trapped at her upper body, watching her over her shoulder as she moved herself frenzied, moaning, groaning, whimpering—now with frustration, as she couldn't get herself finish, tossing her head helplessly, then broken words started pouring out of her between moans and groans, "Rick—please—please—" she started begging, and his insides roared again hearing her begging to him—that powerful feeling—being in power washed him… He—felt powerful, be able like each time—seeing her like this, seeing her giving herself to him, believing in him—trusting him. Always trusting him. Her belief—her belief was like a breathing, living thing coursing through him, giving him power—a man who could do anything to protect his family…

His head bowing, he bit her shoulder, and started giving her what she needed, desperately begging, only to him. Only to him.

She was only his. No one could make her feel like this, could make her like _this_. No one but only _him_.

They were inches apart now downside, her ass lightly pressed over his bulging hardness, and reaching further, Rick squeezed his hand over her again under her dress, and pressed his palm over her pelvis as she kept grinding at him—and the sole motion was enough, as if it was what she'd been desperately needing—and she started coming—shuddering violently, arching over his hold over her body, her juices soaking his hand up to his wrist.

Then as he breathed out laboriously, his own pants tightening, throbbing—a beast in him wanting to throw her back and fuck her brains out, she settled down back in his arms again, heaving out deeply, spent, like her pent up energy finally drained, her body still having post orgasm shivers.

In silence, both couldn't even able to talk, they stayed still in their embrace. It was a struggle not to close that inch between them and pressed himself on her little ass that was sticking up at him and finish himself off too. He'd been careful not to touch her ass as she had moved over his hand frantic, but now his penis was throbbing achingly, his stomach tied into knots, and he needed to reveal himself, too but he couldn't just move—didn't want to let her go. She was safe here. He could keep her safe like this, no one could take her away from him.

Her eyes raised at his after a few seconds, when her breathing became less laborious, and she tried to twirl on her other side to face with him, but Rick tightened his arm in response. "No…" he rasped out, "Stay."

"You—" she whispered out, her voice so low, "You—we need…"

"No…stay—" he said. She couldn't go anywhere. "You stay where you belong."

Her breath hitched hearing his words, and she ceased her movements, and settled back against him again. His soaked hand crept up over her stomach again, and found her small bump—their babies—his babies growing in her… She relaxed more between his arms, feeling his hand over her stomach, like she always did, and Rick bowed his head again over her shoulder and kissed the spot he'd just bitten.

She shivered again slightly, but stayed where she belonged, her hands still trapped, one clasped between his, the other stuck under his arm. And they stayed like this without another word.

When she spoke the next, Rick hadn't still let her go, and she hadn't made another attempt again, but only called out at him softly, "Rick—you said before it comes to you good—" she told him, her voice so low Rick barely could hear it, "Told me you think we both need it," she clarified further, and she didn't need to, he already had understood what she had been asking.

"I told you I feel like I'm keeping you safe—" he rasped out, telling her the truth. Because it was the truth. Like this—she was safe. _Nothing_ would take her again.

"You told me you're enjoying it, too—" she said back in a whisper.

"And I am—" he answered with a sigh, but they still didn't make a move to pull away from each other, "And you, too."

She nodded in silent acceptance. Then a breath later, asked, "You enjoy me being like this?" she asked then, "Helpless, at your mercy…begging?" she asked, "Feel like you owning me?"

He let out another sigh, shaking his head, "No one—no one could own you, Amanda. The last man who tried it got his throat ripped off. No. I don't want to own you, baby. In fact, I quite like you like this, like—like a staggering tornado, wild and feral—" he said, trying to get her understand him, because he didn't want to own her—no… never. "Do you remember what I told you the first time I tied you up after the party?" he asked, finally uncoiling his grip on her, letting her go.

She slowly twirled on her other side and faced with him. Their eyes found each other then, too, before she answered, "You told me it's about trust, trusting someone enough to be vulnerable."

"Yes," he said back too, rising his hand gently touched at her cheek, "When you give yourself to me like this, accept it—accept being vulnerable, I know you do it because you trust me, Amanda. I know you could never let anyone get you like this—no one. You're only my baby. You can only be like this with me, because you trust me," he repeated, and exhaled a breath, "And it makes—me—feel powerful, Amanda, being capable of—feel unique—like—like I'm kind of a superman or something—" he told her with a sheepish smile, shaking his head, "I know it's not very mature, but I feel it. Like I can do anything, like I can keep you safe, like I can keep _all of you_ safe—not a failure—"

She cut off his words, her eyes were moist, staring at him with love, affection, trust and everything else, "You're _never_ a failure, Rick."

He closed his eyes, "It's hard, Amanda—" he confessed then, because it was, and he opened his eyes, "This world—this world is harsh, and I'm trying—trying my best, but I'm just a man."

Her arms wrapped around him then, and she snugged at his chest, "And you're doing great, Rick—" she told him fiercely, "You're doing great."

Even though Rick couldn't believe it, he could always believe her. Always.

# # #

The next morning before they left for Alexandria again, she kissed him on the lips outside their cabin, smiling at him with love, affection, trust and everything else, and Rick smiled back at her faintly, touching at her cheek lightly and swore to himself he was going to give her everything she ever wanted, everything she needed.

Peace.

He was going to give her peace.

* * *

_Hurray, a big applause, please, as I finally got Rick cracking up why he wants Amanda like this... And I also made them watch the sunset at the beach, another applause, please :) We also got the "peace" part, too, and I managed it without killing anyone. Again. Another applause :)_

_I feel like Oceanside plot is slipping away from me, but I admit I'm just not all that interest with it right at the moment, but have to do it for the continuity sake. Heh. So if it feels somewhat off, sorry. _

_I still try to keep enough erotic, not downright pornographic, but Amanda and Rick hardly ever listen to me, so things get a bit more heated. I'd marked this story as T, but there is still no an explicit sex scene, but do you think it deserves a M now? It looks like to me it's pretty "mature" now. I don't know._

_Oh, and be attentive, I think because I frequently upload chapters now, sometimes even twice in 24 hours, not my every uploads is shown at the main page. It happened with the last chapter. It stayed where it was even though I uploaded a new chapter. This had happened before, too, so I think it's because of the frequent updates. _


	28. Chapter 28

**Hey, there, I'm reposting adding another section at the end, because, I realized writing this section needs to be here to close the loose ends before we move to the next parts in the plot. Sorry for the mess. I'm just not good with organizing the chapters these days.**

XXVII.

Amanda wrapped her arms around him, and snugged at his chest, her insides melting again, "And you're doing great, Rick," she told him, words leaving her lips on their own, burning with the fire inside her, "You're doing great."

He was—she didn't even want to think how her life would've been without him—she remembered her fears of losing him, how she'd felt when she'd thought him dead when he hadn't returned from the quarry with everyone else, how she'd felt seeing Maggie crying—how empty her life had been before him…

How barren, how meaningless, telling herself it'd been better that way—She suppressed a sob, the bastard's words pushing back in her mind again, _soft and empty_ but she didn't let it. Not this time. She was going to listen to Rick, only Rick. She—she should've done it at the very beginning, had never doubted him. He'd told her the first time—_it's not about control, it's about trust, trusting someone enough to be vulnerable. _

Letting someone to see you vulnerable, letting them take care of you when you were weak—like she'd let Rick. Because they trusted each other. Her arms squeezed him weakly remembering, warmness spreading over her further. Bowing his head, giving her shoulder another light kiss, Rick flipped himself on his back, carrying her on him in the meanwhile.

Once he was settled, she was sprawled out over him, her right leg resting against his outer hip, as the other slipped between his. "You 'kay?" he asked her, his head tilting down to look at her.

Hiding her head at his chest, she nodded, "Yeah—sorry…sorry I doubted you again, Rick—"

He let out a small, resigned sigh. "Did you really feel like that, Amanda—like I want to own you?" he asked then.

She didn't know. She had no idea what the hell she was feeling anymore. "I don't know—" she told him then not knowing what else to say, resting her head aside back at his chest, "I—I'm confused. I know you aren't like that—"

"But couldn't feel it—?" he asked back, cutting in.

She shook her head. "I—I—" she faltered, and repeated, "I don't know, Rick." She felt hot tears welling in her eyes again, "Everything's a mess. I—I'm a mess."

"Hey—" His voice raised, his arm reaching out to make her look back at him, "You're not a mess—" He paused, "Or you're not the only one, at least. This's hard for everyone, Amanda. After they took you—I turned to a mess too—Carl started blaming me again—and I started blaming myself too—I let them. I let him to take you away…couldn't stop it—did nothing. I watched it. It was—" He deeply breathed, and tightening his arm over her waist, he slid her up over him closer, "I—hallucinated you—trashed the hall—then saw you—you told me to get up and fight."

She felt something seized her at her chest, and she bowed her head again, "I heard you too—" she confessed, "Later—in my mind—you told me to fight too."

He smiled at her, "So we were really together, eh?" his hand going to her, "Baby—you're not a mess. You're the bravest woman I've ever seen—" he told her lowly in a whisper.

And something in her broke so much, she almost heard the sound it made, "I—I'm not, Rick," she told him back then… "I—I thought I could take it," she finally confessed, something forcing her to tell him… She wanted to—she had to—she had to confess. It was too much, just too much. She—she wanted to share—the pain—her shame. He would understand. They trusted each other. They knew each other. She couldn't do this anymore. She wasn't that strong. She—she'd learned that too.

"I thought I could be brave," she said, "thought I could suck it up. He—he told me if I let him, he—he could've used his hand—" she forced the words out, "He—he told me I only needed to ask. I didn't. I didn't want him to _touch_ me—I chose the whip. Pain sucks but there's…a pride in it. You know you're suffering, but you also know you didn't take easy way out. You fought." A bitter laugh broke out of her, "I thought myself tough enough, thought I could take it. Thought—he—he couldn't break me." She stopped for a breath then couldn't continue again—words still couldn't come out even though she wanted to confess.

But it didn't matter at the end, she knew, Rick had understood what had happened nevertheless. "Baby, it's okay—" he told her, words only placate her, only to make her feel better because she'd fucked it up, his hand going through her hair.

She shook her head vehemently to push it away. "No!" she almost screamed, "It's not okay!" It _wasn't_— It wasn't okay. "I—I shouldn't have!" She had to be strong, "I—I should've sucked it up. I couldn't! I—asked him—begged him—begged him to do it, Rick!"

She hid her head again at his chest, shame and fury coursing through her…angry more than anyone at herself... "I just lay over his lap and let him—let him play my hair—" she seethed against his skin bitterly, her forehead resting on his heart, "Let him tell me all those horrible stuff—horrible, awful things—horrible, awful, and true things." She breathed on a sob, "about me—" she whispered.

"He told me I've got a hard shell, but a soft heart, soft and empty… He told me girls like me need men like you to fill their emptiness inside, to make them whole. Told me I hate to admit it, but I need it. Beg for it. And he—he was right." She raised her eyes back, and look at him, "I'm begging…begging you each time when you have me like this-" She made a little motion with her head, "I—I can't help myself. I want it, desperately. I want to…_feel_…" Feelings—emotions…so confusing, so complicated… but without them…without them, how the life would have been?

"Everything I had before you was so barren—so empty," she told him how it'd been when she'd been in her comfort zone, when everything had been just simple and plain, "and I wasn't even aware of it until you made me realize it. I always tried to protect myself so no one could hurt me, built myself walls, a castle—nothing can come in, but nothing can come out too—a-and-and I didn't realize—" She shook her head again, "or simply didn't care I was trapped inside a cage, too. And you wither, wither away in the cage then eventually forget your bars are even there."

Like how she had forgotten how much she liked cookies—how much she used to like helping the old lady in the kitchen when the woman had baked for them, how much she liked the smell, until Rick had made her remember again. "I wanted to have a piece of you inside me, Rick, so it couldn't be like that anymore—wanted us to be a family…"

Looking at her back in the eye, Rick shook his head, too, "Amanda, baby, I know. You—you _already_ told me." His hand clasped her cheek, "We wanted to create a life together—_together_—" He put a strong emphasis on together, "So it couldn't be like that anymore—so we don't live anymore in the wilderness. Amanda, baby, you're not the only one who feels like this—You told me you felt alive the last time, do you remember?"

As her eyes closed for a second, she recalled the memory, remembered how everything had coursed through her, from head to toe, and how she had felt her babies stirred inside her—how she had felt life stirred in her… The feeling— gloriously alive…until her last atoms, life stirring in her insides…

She gasped, remembering it, then like a miracle, like their miracle it happened again—life stirred in her again.

She gasped even wilder, her eyes widening—her babies—their babies moving inside her—she _felt_ it, like a heartbeat, fluttering in her, beating… A smile split her face in two as her tears ran freely. "Rick—" she whispered, her hand taking his at her cheek and dropping herself over his body, laying on her side, she brought it at her stomach.

Trembling, she pressed his hand at her little bump, "Feel it?" she breathed out as his eyes lowered, "They—they're moving."

And he smiled, smiled warmly, and she saw the light.

The stir slowly ceased, and Rick lifted his eyes back at her. "If they're like this now," he said, still smiling, "They're gon' give us hell when they're born."

She laughed, merrily, all of her dark, depressed thoughts vanishing, even the itches, pain at her ass felt like a distant memory—of darker days, now she was full with light—light and life, "They're ours. What else would you expect?" she laughed again, she couldn't help herself, and bowed her head, "Love cardio like Daddy, huh, little ones? Bet you do—"

Laughing back at her, Rick pulled her back closer against him, "Daddy _hates_ cardio—"

"Still he's doing great—"

"Hmm mm—"

Amanda laughed again, then stopped as her eyes finding him again, "Rick—I wanna go home—" she whispered, "Please, take me back home."

And he promised her again, "I will. We'll have peace, Amanda. Then we'll go back home. I promise."

# # #

The next morning before they left for Alexandria again, she kissed him on the lips outside their cabin, smiling at him with love, affection, trust and everything else, and Rick smiled back at her faintly, touching at her cheek lightly and swore to himself he was going to give her everything she ever wanted, everything she needed.

Peace.

He was going to give her peace.

Then he was going to take her back home. Where she belonged.

His hand lightly touched at her stomach—trying to find the faint fluttering under her skin—barely there—he couldn't even feel it—but Amanda had—and Rick had felt it through her.

They were still alive, so there was still hope.

# # #

But hope was a fickle thing to keep up in these days, Rick once again remembered when he came back home.

Alexandria. Their home.

A death scene.

Rick looked at the dead corpses laying around the town, the gate broken down.

Michonne was covered with blood as she explained to him, her words echoing in him. Everything else in chaos too, between them. He saw Abraham and Sasha running to the houses. Natania and Cyndie, the leaders of Oceanside were looking at the scene with widened eyes, as if they'd seen this happen before, and they had.

They had seen it happen before.

"They came back yesterday after the sunset," Michonne told them, "blew up the gate with the rocket. We're okay, mostly. First, they looked around for Amanda and Beth. They asked you, too, but we told them you went out for a supply run. When they found, nothing they left. Then at night, this happened."

"Wanted to give us an ultimatum, in case that we keep Amanda hidden," Tara beside Michonne spoke, too, "Walkers came. We dealt with them, but lost Ben and Olivia. Ben was at the gate when it was hit, and Olivia got bitten. I'm sorry."

"Carl and Judith—?" he asked in a whisper.

"They're safe," Michonne said back, as Rick let out a breath of relief, "She's with Carol now. Carl's helping to gather the corpses."

Corpses.

"Peace. That was the peace—laying over there at their broken gates.

"We need to close the gate—" he said, looking at the cars they'd parked over the entrance to block the way. They'd passed over them to enter in.

"We're on it—" Rosita said, "Tobin and Spencer got it. They're welding a new one in the warehouse."

Rick nodded. They—they had gotten out of worse. It was just another fight they'd lost—not the war. They still needed to fight the war.

Then they heard it—the approaching grunts of car and jeeps, and in these days, it meant one day. They—they were back.

The blood drained back in his veins. He turned aside and pointed at Oceanside's leaders, "Go inside. It's better if he doesn't see you here."

"He can't remember us—" Cyndie objected, "It's almost two years now."

Rick shook his head, "I'm not taking any chances," he said back, "Go inside."

Natania nodded, "He's right."

They went inside as Simon and his pack, armed with automatic machine guns, a force of almost fifty fighter came out of the trucks and the jeep at the front of the cortege from which the new bastard of the town jumped out of. Upon seeing them at the gate gathered, Simon stopped at the other side of the cars, and his eyes stopped him, too. "Oh, look, the man of the hour returned—" he exclaimed, his hands tugging at his belt, he bounced on his heels, "Found anything for us?"

Rick shook his head, "No luck—" he said, and asked him, "We had an agreement," Rick told him, playing dumb, and pointed at the gate, "Why?"

"Now—you tell me you don't know your wifey escaped two nights ago?" the bastard asked, "The same night you left for a supply run—and came back with empty hands?" his tongue clinked, then pointed at the cars, too, "C'mon, clear the way. So, we can talk."

Rick pointed at Tara and Rosita, and they pulled away the cars. Simon and his group walked in. "You know why Negan left you your gun, Rick," the man told her almost conversationally, throwing an arm over his shoulder, making them walk—Rick shot at him glance, "So you can find us goods—stuff, goodies! If you don't do it—there's no point of keeping you alive, you see? And I'm already in my half mind to kill all of you sorry shits and be done with it!"

Rick gave him another look, but stayed in silence, wondering where it was going. "Now—your wife—" the man paused, dropping his arm in front of the first house in the town when they were alone, "What was her name?" he asked, "Negan simply used to call her doll."

Rick glared at the man, "Amanda."

"Right—" The man pointed at him a finger, "Amanda."

"So Amanda killed Negan, and I'm your Negan now. You know—the King is dead, long live the King." He barked out a loud laugh, "Nah…this shit never gets old… So my point is—I really want to kill y'all—but at the other hand—people are looking at me—to lead them…and I gotta be…more reasonable now. Your wife—I—hell, I might even send her a fruit basket." Another bark of laugh, this time a bit less loud, and he leaned down to whisper at him, "Between you and me—she—man, she saved me from trouble. You see…me and Negan—?" He made out a loud huff, bouncing on his heels again, "That story wasn't gonna have a happy ending—" He pulled back, as Rick gave him another glare, "But I'm the King now—the leader of the Savior, and she killed the old King. If I let that go, what my people would think of me?"

"So—really, I need to take her back… she needs to be punished…" His blood boiled in his veins as Rick remembered her words, remembered her scarred skin… Never. Never again. No one was going to touch her ever again. "Then I promise I'd send her back to you." A sickening, big smile split his face in two, his mustache widening, "Deal?"

In silence, Rick glared at her. Simon made another big puff. "I never expected her to find her here, you know," he told Rick again like they were in real conversation, "She's not stupid. She must know that this place is the first one we'd look for her. I know she's out there somewhere, hiding. Somewhere she thought safe…"

His eyes snapped at the man, as the bastard looked at him in expectation, but Rick kept his silence. "No—you say?"

"All righty—then we do it in my way—" He pulled back outside the porch where he had been leaning and his hand went to his back—Rick tensed in the motion, his own angling toward his own gun—they were too much. Even though he killed the bastard before he could do anything, with only pistol he couldn't take out the machine guns.

They were too much for them. Outnumbered.

But it wasn't his gun the bastard pulled back. It was a little white envelope, fitting in his palm— "You should be missing her—thought you might want to see her again—" Simon told him, handing him the envelope, and another sick smile lifting his face in two, "We looked at it this morning—man, we _all_ looked at it…"

His brows clenched, Rick took it before the bastard turned on his heels and starting walking back. "All right, guys, we're done here. Let's move—" he shouted, "Don't forget, Rick. If you just hand her over to me, it's gonna be much better than alternative," he yelled, jumping back in the jeep, and hit at the door from the open window, "Arrivederci, suckers."

Bowing his head, Rick looked at the close envelope. "Don't open it, Rick," Father Gabriel told him suddenly walking out from the porch, "Whatever it's there, you won't like it," he continued, and Rick already knew… "He only gave it to you to hurt you, you know it."

But he had to—he just couldn't let it go. Without a word, he ripped it off. Inside, there was a photo—a Polaroid… Recalling the last time he saw a photo like this were taken, he shuddered, and he started taking it out slowly—and his heart stopped, his blood drained out of him and he looked it, the world slipping away from it… her words from last night echoing in a void…

_I—asked him—begged him—begged him to do it, Rick!_

The photo, her photo, slipped off his fingers as Rick dropped on his knees.

# # #

On the ground on his knees, one hand supporting his weight, Rick was crying loudly—the photo laying just over his eyes—_I just lay over his lap and let him—let him play with my hair…_

She was on her knees and hands on the floor in front of the bastard, laying over one knee, his hand over her almost naked bottom—over her lacerated skin that her dress had left open as the bastard's other hand was stroking her hair between his fingers…

Another sob erupted out of him, and he screamed with cries.

Her eyes—as she twisted back at the camera—the shame over her face—the black eyeliner making black stains over her cheeks, her eyes red and smudged black—and the pain in there—the shame…

Another scream…

She—she shouldn't have lived through this!

Never!

His wife—his beautiful, pregnant wife—never!

He knew—he knew it had been bad—known it—known it from Amanda's half broken words, and the fury and shame she had felt—but not like this.

This—this couldn't have happened to them… Not to his Amanda—not the woman he loved—please, not!

But it had happened.

He—he'd seen so many times women had been abused before as sheriff's deputy—countless photos of bruises, scars, and wounds—but this—this couldn't be happening to them. Not to his wife, not to the woman he loved…

He—he should've—he should've protected her.

He should have.

He saw boots in front of his eyes, "Man—get up—" He recognized the heavy drawl. Daryl. Grabbing him under his armpits, Daryl pulled him up, "Get up."

"What happened, happened—" the hunter told him then, lifting his head, "They're back. They're safe now."

Rick looked at him. She was—she was safe, yes, she was back—but she was still hurting—she had confessed. She was still hurting because Rick couldn't have saved her. There were other hands, too, "I told you he only wanted to hurt you, Rick—" and Rick recognized the pastor's voice, too.

And it hurt. It hurt so much.

Leaving him to the pastor, Daryl took the photo from the ground, bending down. Everyone else was keeping their distance now, Rick realized vaguely, as if they wanted to give them privacy—as if they knew…

Slowly, he dropped himself on the porch's steps, and lifted his hand—the photo—no… No one else could see it—even Daryl. "Gimme that!" he snapped.

Quickly his friend gave it back, as the pastor left them too, and without looking at it, Rick pushed the damned thing into his pocket.

He was going to kill him—he was going to kill all of them—

_We looked at it this morning—man, we all looked at it…_

Simon, his lieutenants, his friends, all those of bastards had looked at her photo—and—and—and—

From black, everything was turning to red, a fury he'd never felt before—even after Lori's death, washing over him. A part of him wanted to go and blow the whole place to smithereens. He could—he could find a way. He always did. They—they deserved it.

"The pastor was right," Daryl said then, standing up above him, his head bowed to look at him in the eye, "He was right. He did it to hurt you, man."

And he was going to regret it, Rick was going to make sure of it. "When Beth was taken—I—left to find her because I couldn't take it, man—" Daryl stated talking suddenly, "I—I started having dreams—nightmares—" the hunter corrected, as Rick lifted his head up, too, remembering his own dreams—looking for desperately calling out at Amanda—terrified he'd lost her too—but he hadn't lost her… No.

He had found her—even separated, they had been always together, and they had found each other back. Something in him stirred, and he felt it—he'd found her. Maybe, he couldn't have saved her, but he'd found her. "I—I had to leave because I couldn't take it," Daryl repeated, "I had to find her…And I did. I found her almost dead, spent a night holding her pulse, so I'd know she hadn't passed away. It was the worst night all in my life, Rick—and I only wanted her to live—whatever else happened, I didn't give no shit, man."

"This—" Rick shook his head, "This's different." Beth hadn't lived the same humiliation because Daryl couldn't have rescued her.

"It is," but Daryl argued, insisting, "It's. They're back. Nothing else ain't matter." He gave her a look, "You told it, too, man."

Rick recalled his own words—_You're back. Nothing's more important than that. _"I know—" and he did, but seeing it— "I know it—but seeing—"

Daryl cut him off with a stern look, "Burn it—" he ordered her, "When we go back, find her and burn it together. Beth—when we were out in the wall after the prison, we found this ramshackle cabin in the woods. I—I told her about my childhood—how I passed it like a cabin that one. She…she made us burn it, man, told me I should bury it before it kills me—" he stopped, pointing his heart a little, "kills me here. You should burn it, too. You can't let it ruin ya."

Understanding the words and knowing that Daryl had never let this much out if he hadn't thought it was important, Rick nodded. "Thank ya," he told his brother, his hand reaching out to hold his hand, and holding each other's wrist, they shared a handshake in gratitude, "Thank ya, brother."

Daryl was right. He shouldn't have let this ruin them. They—they were together. All of them were still together. Their babies were stirring in her, and Carl and Judith were waiting them to turn back. Nothing was important than that.

But Rick had realized another thing, too. He'd realized Amanda was right. This—this wasn't about a person. No. Killing wasn't enough. They—they to do something. Change it. Peace. He'd promised her peace.

But only killing wasn't enough. She'd killed Negan and that didn't even stop _it_. Negan, Simon, Governor, Gareth—all those countless sonofbitches were just spikes on a wheel—turning on its own one upon another, crushing that lay beneath, exploiting weakness and fear, using it as a weapon, drawing people in like lambs to slaughter. It _had to_ stop.

Breaking the spikes weren't stopping the wheel. Killing Negan hadn't stopped any damn thing. _The King is dead, long live the King._ He saw it now. And Amanda always being much better at politics than him had already seen it, had already seen killing Negan wasn't the solution.

No. They—they had to stop the wheel. They had to break it.

Then they would have the peace. In a better world, where people like Negan, people like Simon, people like Governor, people like Gareth would never exploit the others.

Staring ahead at the future, Rick pulled back to his feet.

* * *

_Yeah, the photo... I hope you didn't think that would've stayed hidden somehow. :)_

_I wanted to play with the idea even knowing something bad happened is different than seeing it. Seeing Amanda like this, like they showed Daryl Glenn's photo in the show to torture him, and Daryl broke. Such an evil, sad thing._

_Having Amanda experience such a thing, though, feeling her babies inside her stir was something I wanted to do for a long time, and I'm glad that she finally experienced it coherently. The next step is a kick :)_

_So the end section... my plan was always getting Rick to be enough motivated to build a new world order, but he needs a trigger for that, in the canon it was Carl's death but since Carl is very much alive here, something else was needed. Though, I have to remind you that the last person I saw on TV who tried to break the wheel was Daenerys Targaryen and if you watched Game of Thrones, you must know how that turned out, lol. That's gonna be interesting._

_And, I was really waiting for that talk between Rick and Daryl, too. Glad that they managed it at least. I really can't wait to make Amanda and Rick burn the photo, either. One of my favorite parts in Adaptation is when Daryl made Beth burn the elevator shaft. As that was also supposed to be the end of the story, he he. My plans..._

_Okay, I'm going now...sorry for the rambling. Stay safe, and be at home. Love you bunches._


	29. Chapter 29

**I'm insanely happy with this chapter, hope you will like it too. I updated another chapter today, too, so don't get confused. And added another section at the end after. If you haven't read the previous chapter fully, the continuity wouldn't make perfect sense then here.**

**And because I'm frequently updating, I think, this site's software doesn't show my updates as it's supposed to. So be aware, too.**

**Enjoy. (Not proofread even once again, sorry. I'll try to do it in the morning)**

* * *

XVIII.

One good thing with the attack at Alexandria, Rick wouldn't need to worry about home now. The attack had come and passed, and even with their casualties they were alive.

And they had a war to finish now. Not only win.

He looked at them when they gathered back at their house, all standing up. He'd already trashed the hall, and what else had remained had been plundered by the Saviors, so the house was barren—empty, not even seats to sit. Barren and empty… _Everything I had before you was so barren, so empty…_ Never…never again. Nothing she had was ever going to be barren and empty, never again. They still lived. It was enough. They were going to fill the rest again.

"This's good," he told his audience then, "They already made their moves, so we don't need to worry about it no longer. But I want the wall and gates be watched non-stop." He turned to Michonne, "Michonne?"

The Afro-American woman nodded simply, "We're on it. Rosita prepares the shifts."

Rick nodded back, and turned to Abraham and Sasha and Maggie, "You were going to leave for Hilltop yesterday. You should. We need to get them on broad and secure the community. We still need them, and you gotta train 'em."

Abraham and Sasha nodded, but Maggie shook her head, "No. I'm coming with you. I need to see my sister."

"No, Maggie—" Rick told her, "I need you there at Hilltop. These people are gonna need someone to lead them. We'll come Hilltop soon."

"Where are we goin' then?" Daryl asked.

"We'll go to the Kingdom—" Rick answered without hesitation, "We need to talk Richard. Learn what's happening with them." He turned to the Oceanside women, "You can't come. Not before I talk to Richard first. I let you come with me because I thought it was fair—" and he needed them to fight, "but I'm not gonna do it with another community."

No. Not before he made sure Richard was still on board with them. He couldn't risk it. They had to play safe. He wasn't sure how Richard felt now. He knew the other man hated the Saviors, had wanted to fight as much as they had wanted, and he knew without the former guard's help they might've never convinced Ezekiel to fight at the first place but he still wasn't going to risk it.

Besides, he wanted to turn back and talk with Amanda. He needed to talk with her. She was the best strategist they had. He needed her. He needed his wife always.

"We go back to Oceanside first then?" Daryl inquired further.

Rick nodded. Carl spoke, too, standing beside him, turning to Rick, "I wanna come. I—you said they already made their move. So we're safe now. Carol can take care of Judith. I want to fight." He paused, "I want to see her."

Rick gave his son a look, but this time nodded. His time had come. Rick couldn't keep him at bylines forever. A father's duty was to protect his children, but his son was becoming a man. He'd always wanted him to be a man. _No more kid stuff._

And now Carl wanted to fight for his family too.

Rick nodded. Carl gave him back a little smile, and he seemed happy—happy for doing it, and Rick felt happy as well. He liked Carl seeing like this, not only seeing him being the man he'd wanted his son to be, but caring, genuinely caring for Amanda and his half-siblings.

Rick had never told Carl about the truth about Judith's parentage—hadn't wanted to taint his mother's memory, hadn't wanted him to live through the feel of betrayal Rick had had to but another part of him also had been worried if Carl would've reacted at Judith too. He knew Carl loved his sister, and knew he would've gotten over it, but he just didn't want his children live through it.

Judith was Carl's sister as much as she was his daughter, nothing would change that, but Rick still hadn't wanted him to live through it. Carl had been through much. But seeing him like this—caring—genuinely caring had just proved that his fears for rioting had been unnecessary.

Rick held his son at his shoulder, and squeezed it, feeling a bit relieved.

Everything was going to be okay. He was going to put everything back together again.

They started preparing a quick backpack again before they left, and from upstairs, Rick saw Carl coming down holding his dart with one hand. Rick arched an eyebrow. "They left it at my room," Carl explained, "We still haven't finished our last game."

Despite everything, Rick let out a small laugh at his son. Never admitting the defeat, Carl had been trying to win a round against Amanda with no avail. Once they'd even heard him whining it wasn't fair to live with two former law enforcement officers. Then Amanda once had let him win and Carl hadn't spoken to her almost two days until Amanda had baked him his favorite cookies.

The memory filled him with warmness—no…never barren and empty. Never. He motioned at his son with a tilt of head, "C'mon, let's go."

When Amanda saw Carl when they were back to hidden bay, she threw herself at him, running to hug him fiercely. Rick stood a few steps back, watching them hug each other, smiling, holding the dart board in his hand. Amanda almost squeaked upon seeing it, untangling herself from Carl. "Oh, you brought the dart, too!" she turned aside, giving Carl a saucy smile, "Missed me kicking your ass?" she asked playfully, bumping her hip against Carl's.

"You wish—" Carl shot back, "I just discovered a new strategy for the shots."

"Ohh—" Amanda gasped, but Rick interrupted them, "Come on, let's get inside. We need to talk."

In the community hall they gathered together, settling down across the low seats, Amanda carefully placing herself over the two cushions—fighting over with a slight pinch at her eyebrow sitting down, but managed to keep herself still. With the corner of his eyes, he watched her until she grew comfortable, and her tight expression lessened.

Rick then turned to Daryl and Beth. There were only five of them now, Rick hadn't wanted anyone else, trying to keep it as hidden as possible, leaving the rest of the Alexandria behind to start searching for gun and ammo.

They needed more guns. They always needed more guns. Aside from them, there were also Cyndie, Natania, Beatrice and Frankie and Tanya inside the spacious room.

"They attacked home?" Beth asked with a gasp as Amanda shook her head with a sigh after they'd learned the news.

Rick hadn't told them the details, especially what the sonofabitch had given to him. The photo was still in his pocket. They were going to burn it, as soon as he was back from the Kingdom. "Any casualties?" Amanda asked

"Ben and Olivia," Rick answered truthfully, "Ben was at his shift at the gate, and Olivia was bitten."

They both stayed in silence, and Amanda slowly shook her head again, "They _were_ good men."

"This's war," he told them again, not only answering to her, but to everyone else. It was a war, "And before we finish this, we're gonna lose, more people, comrades, perhaps even will a few fights, but we'll win. Not only we'll win, we'll also end this." He paused, his eyes turning to Amanda, "Amanda told before Sanctuary is our reality, and we need to find a way to live with it, because they're other people there, people who are being oppressed by men like Negan, by men like Simon. They're just spikes of a wheel, but the wheel continues to turn. Killing Negan didn't change anything. Didn't stop the wheel. We need to stop it. Break the wheel." His eyes turned to Natania and Cyndie, "This—this isn't only about revenge anymore, but about building a better life, a life we all deserve."

A new order. A new begging.

He looked at the leaders, and asked, "Are you with me?"

"How?" the old woman asked again, "How we do it, Rick Grimes, how we do it?"

"Slowly—" Rick answered, "Patiently, _eventually_—" His eyes found Amanda again, and repeated what she'd told him months ago when they had first come to Alexandria, "Rome wasn't built in one day. We have to be smart. We need allies."

But in Amanda's eyes there was a wariness as she looked at him carefully, measuring, and Rick recognized it. _Leaders with big ambitions._ They always made her wary. Big ambitions had always made him wary, as well, but there was no other way. This—this was how they had peace, how they went back to home.

This was the life their children deserved… the trees they had to plant so their children could sit under their shades. Perhaps they would never sit under it themselves, but this was how a society lived long in prosper and peace.

# # #

Amanda found him outside the community hall as they prepared to leave for Kingdom.

After his declaration, he'd said he was going to leave with Daryl to check on Richard, but what she'd heard back inside had made Amanda almost start running for the hills… _We need to stop it… Break the wheel._

Break the wheel? God! What the hell she'd started?

She—she only had wanted to go back and home, and live in peace… She—she didn't want to break any damn wheel! This—this was getting too much for her, just too much. She was just getting her shit back together after all the things she'd been through. She wasn't sure if she was ready to break any wheel.

"Rick—" she called him out catching him alone, and walked to him, "Rick, what was that?" she asked, looking at him, "You really meant it?"

"Yeah," he answered back, "I meant it, Amanda. This's what you want," he continued, looking at her back, taking a step close, and took her hand, "_Peace_."

"I want peace, Rick, but I didn't mean to break any wheel," she replied quickly, shaking her head, "We're getting ahead of ourselves here. I—only want to go back and be with my family."

"How do we do it, baby?" Rick asked back, leaning on in her, "How we do it, go to home? They're still there—our reality. You told it too."

Damn her mouth! "Rick—I don't know—it's—" she shook her head again, but he stopped her before she could continue.

"We need to do this, baby, for our children…For Carl and Judith—" His hand found her stomach, and he touched her little bump again—and Amanda felt something stirring in her again—coursing all through her—life—rushing in her, and her eyes almost closed at the contact… God, she was so much of a sucker… "For our babies… Do you want them to live under shadow of men like Negan or Simon?" he continued, knowing damn well the chinks in her armor—breaking down her walls—He had always known them…even before she had known them herself. "Baby, I can't do it alone, please," he told her, taking another step on in her, "I need you." His eyes found hers, "I need _you_."

Someone in his tone broke her last reserves, too. She nodded with sigh, resting her head at his chest, "You always have me, Rick. Always."

His chin atop her head, he nodded. "We'll all need you, Amanda. You're much better than me at this…"

She gave out a snort, and repeated, "You're doing great, Rick—" she said back, "To damn well, actually." She took a step back, "You might've even convinced Natania over there."

He smiled back at her a little in response. Then she announced, "I'll come withyou."

And his jaw tensed under his beard as his eyebrows tightened as soon as the words left her. "Amanda—no. It's a risk. We can't take it."

But she shook her head. If he needed her help, then he was getting it. "Well, I can't help you here sitting—_trying_ to sit on my ass. I need to be out with you."

"Baby, you're pregnant. And we don't know about Kingdom. We don't even know if the Saviors had paid them a visit like they did it to Alexandria."

"It'd been two days. If they would do it, they must've done it already," she encountered, "And we know Kingdom hate the Saviors as much as we do—especially after they killed Ezekiel. They might not in doubts for fighting, but they wouldn't sell us out."

Though the tightness of Rick's eyebrow told her he wasn't thinking the same. "It's still a risk."

"And every breath we take is a risk," she said back, agitated, "You told me that. Look, honey, our babies are fine. I—I won't do fighting—I promise. I just want to come with you. The last two times we got separated, it ended very badly." She paused, giving him a loaded look, "You told me you were never going to leave my hand again."

To make her point, she took his hand in hers. "Hard to do it if I'm not beside you."

Rick gave out a sigh, and bowed his head in acceptance, bringing her closer to his arms.

When she'd decided to come, Beth had demanded to accompany them as well, and Carl announced he was, too, so they left the hidden campsite to find the old Dodge pick-up and they all fitted inside, Amanda settling herself again over a cushion at front seat, a fact no one commented on but noticed.

A blush had rose over her neck as she sat there, a second later Rick found her hand and squeezed. The gesture calmed her again, and swallowing, she turned her head aside, and gave him a small faint smile.

In silence, Rick drove the car to the Kingdom. She tried to think everything in order in her mind. Rick needed her help, and she had to give it to him. She was his wife. She had to help him. Only she wasn't sure. Things were getting too ahead of her. They needed to prioritize, made plans, back up plans, contingency plans, strategies. If they were going to start a real war, they needed a road map, not just hopping from one community to the other. She assumed Rick was going to do it, too, but first he wanted to make sure where everyone else stood.

But Amanda still knew they couldn't manage it without inner help. They were simply still outnumbered. Moreover, they needed to get Sanctuary in the folds, make them hear what Rick was offering. Then perhaps, perhaps they would have a real chance. "We—we need to make you reach to the people in Sanctuary somehow," she said then, turning aside to look both Rick's profile and the backseat where Daryl, Beth, and Carl were sitting, "Your name—your name means something there. It's heard," she continued, "This's how I convinced Negan for our deal. You made the first real rebellion against him, got people together. We lost, but people _heard_ about it."

She nodded, an idea getting into her head, "When Martin Luther started his Reformation, his words were spread among the public in secret. People talked about him, about what he offered in secret to each other. We have to do it, too. People over there need to learn what we _are_ offering." She paused, letting out the idea, "A world no one has to bend the knee." She looked at them, "He made them kneel. We—made a tour together before we left for Alexandria," she explained them how life was back there, "When they saw Negan, they dropped on their knees. He made them. He told me he wasn't asking for it, but never stopped it, either. Just let them. Simon will demand the same too. They need to know they have an alternative."

Her eyes turned to Rick fully as his skipped from the road towards her, "You—you have a way with people. A way to get people listen to you. When you speak, everyone listen. Even when they don't agree."

"How we do it?" Rick asked back, "It's not like I can go there and make a speech."

She let out a puff, "I don't know yet. I'm—just thinking. Spinning ideas."

"Maybe Frankie would help us—" Beth said from the backseat, "If she manages to connect her own old people who might be willing to listen—"

Amanda took it from where Beth had left, "This Laura—this Laura might help. Frankie said she hated Simon."

"Okay, okay—" Rick told them both, "Don't get carried away. We'll talk about it later. We have more urgent concerns now. We need more guns, ammo, people. And a way to make sure the people who couldn't fight would stay safe when we start fighting."

Amanda clinked her tongue, "Maybe Oceanside might help us again. Everyone else can hide here, too. So we'd know they're safe."

"That's too much people," Daryl said.

"It's a big camp," she said with a shrug.

"I ain't sure Natania would agree."

"I'll talk to her," Rick said back, and they elapsed into a silence again.

# # #

For all things good and sacred again, the Kingdom looked like the first time Rick had been here, only the air was much, much more somber.

It was Richard who greeted them at the borders of the school's parking lot again, but this time with no guns, but only a spear. "They took our guns, too," Richard told them back at the auditorium. Ezekiel's seat was empty, not taken.

And—and it gave Rick hope, in a way he couldn't exactly explain. The King is dead, long live the King…not always. _Not always._

Richard shook his head, "We—we still want to fight. But how?" the taciturn man asked, "How we do it?"

Rick gave him the same answer he'd given Natalia. "Slowly—" Rick said again, "Patiently, eventually—" It was the best one he had now.

But they were going to find a way.

They—they'd already started. Amanda was right. They—he needed to reach out to those people out there, talk to them. He couldn't have convinced Governor's men the first time, not all of them, but his words had reached to Tara, and had made the woman trusted them back.

He could try. They had to. Even one person was better odds.

But first they had to fight. Guns. They needed to find guns. "Everyone is feeling down," the soldier continued, "Ezekiel…Ezekiel…his antics…his extravaganza was the glue that kept us together. Without him, it feels like we're coming apart at the seams. Even Shiva is having hard. She's stopped eating. No one even can go closer to her cage."

Rick shook his head in objection. "No. You can't. You can't let that happen. You can't let your people grow apart—" Rick told the other man, remembering his own time dealing with his own group after they'd escaped from Terminus, after they'd gotten Beth back, and had started withering in the wild. "You have to find the way. You're the leader now. People will look up at you to show them a way."

"I never wanted to lead—" the man answered, shaking his head back.

Rick shared a glance with Amanda, knowing that she was looking at him, too—almost feeling it, knowing the words were coming from her insides too, "In my experience," Rick told the other man then, "No true leader ever wanted," he said, "But had to lead." He'd never asked for this. Amanda had never wanted, too, but had to. "It's your responsibility now."

Amanda walked to the man closer, "You still got the spears," she told him, eyeing the spear in his hand.

"They left them, much like the knives. Thought they could be no use against machine guns."

Amanda shook her head, "No. I meant they're metal, but not of some blade or knife." Rick scowled a bit, wondering where she was going with it. But then he started to get the idea as she eyed the spear more carefully. The Oceanside had spears too, but theirs had been made cutting from other blades or simply by sharpening the wood. "They're homemade, aren't they?" she asked.

Richard nodded. "Yeah. We have a blacksmith. He made the spears, melting metals we'd found."

"Can he make armors—like the ones you're wearing—" She paused, "It doesn't have to be that fashionable anyway—" she said with a half-smile, looking at his military issued tactical gear, "Just enough thick to stop a bullet. We can look for metals too. We already need to look for guns and ammo."

"We could try this," Rick said, too, and turned to the new leader again, "Get your people back online, get them ready. And—no spies?" he asked, giving the man a hesitant.

Richard shook his head. "We have no wards."

Rick nodded in understanding.

The Kingdom was still with them.

# # #

When Amanda had left the auditorium with Beth, leaving Rick behind with Daryl to talk to Richard more, something was disturbing her, something she couldn't even name… The new leader of the community had hit a chord in her, and she didn't even know why.

_Even Shiva is having hard. She's stopped eating. No one even can go closer to her cage._

She imagined the wild animal inside a cage and that disturbance found her again—she…she hated cages.

She just did.

Granted, when she had first seen the beast, she'd gotten mad—thinking it so out of place, so _insane_, the smells making her sick, but she—she was so regal—so majestic it hurt her thinking her like this—behind the bars…withering away.

_And you wither, wither away in the cage then eventually forget your bars are even there…_

Her own words almost broke out a sob out of herself… She—she fucking hated cages!

She turned to the woman who had accompanied them out, the one who carried a bow, Dianne, "Can I see it?" she asked, "the tiger," she clarified, "Richard says she doesn't even eat. Can I see her?"

Beth's eyes widened, "Amanda—!"

Amanda turned to Beth, "Please, stay here…" she told the younger woman, almost pleadingly, "Please. I'll come in a second. I—I just want to see her—" She paused, "Please."

Giving out a sigh, Beth looked at her, "Amanda—"

"Please." Amanda repeated.

"Okay—" Beth breathed out.

Amanda took her hand and squeezed with a smile, and gave her a half grin, before turning to the other woman, "And—don't tell Rick."

"Can we go?" she asked the bow woman.

The woman nodded, "If you want."

They kept her inside a white ceramic room—in a chilling, dark gloomy room… Couldn't even fucking believing it, she turned to the woman, "You—you keep her here-?" she fumed in, "In this cold cellar?" she asked, shaking her head, "She's a Savannah beast."

"After Ezekiel we couldn't keep her at the top floors—" Diane said in explanation, "We—we tried—"

Amanda nodded curtly. The only thing that was good with this…cell it was that it was so chilling, the smells weren't that bad in the cold. "Can I—Can I stay with her alone," Amanda then asked.

Alone, she slowly walked toward the cage—slowly, so slowly as the beast slowly prowled in the small cage too—and it made her so sad, so sad, tears started wetting her eyes. The beast—she—she was looking at her straight in the eye, and not breaking the contact, Amanda approached the cage closer with small steps, and a few feet from the bars, she slowly sat down on the cold tiles on her knees.

Their eyes were still connected, her stocking taking all the cold from it as Shiva just stopped in front of the bars, her big, monumental, beautiful hovering behind it, and Amanda shivered… So beautiful, so royal, so majestic…and living in a cage.

It was wrong! She—she didn't belong there. She just didn't.

"You hate the bars, too, don't you?" she asked the regal wild animal in a low whisper, her eyes moist, "Hate not being free, withering, withering…alone…"

She moved her hands up, scratching an inch— "When—when I was a child, I—I saw one of your kind on TV once, running in the wild. She looked so free. I used to dream being as free as you," she told the beast with a small, "Running like that… I hate cages… Sometimes I feel like we do nothing but build ourselves cages, then we step back and look with surprise to see ourselves behind the bars." She laughed again, "It's kinda stupid." She paused again, "You gotta eat…" she said, and something made her move on her knees, getting closer, closer, "You have to—this's not you. It can't be."

She was just at the other side of the bars, so close to it—so fucking close if the wild animal wanted, she would take a bite on her—but she didn't move, just kept watching Amanda—her catlike eyes never leaving her—then suddenly, as if on an instinct, her hand starting rising as Shiva moved her head behind the bars between them—and her fingers—trembling touched her fur, so silky, so soft—and started petting her as Shiva moved her head with her motions.

Struck, startled, too dazzled even to move, Amanda kept stroking the regal animal, tears wetting her cheeks.

# # #

"You want what?" Rick exclaimed out wildly.

"I want to take her back with us to Oceanside," Amanda calmly repeated, "She can't stay here. They—they can't look after her."

"And you can?" he asked back, arching an eyebrow.

"I patted her—"

"You did WHAT?" Rick shouted, cutting her off.

"—she let me," Amanda continued as if he hadn't, "Dianne told me it was the first time she let anyone get closer to her after Ezekiel death."

Rick shook his head, "Amanda—Amanda, baby, you can't have a pet tiger! Please, be reasonable. What if—what if she attacks you?"

Amanda shook her head. "She won't—she won't attack. We—know each other…we understood each other. Please, Rick—" She looked at him, her soft, almost moist eyes pleading at him, and Rick started feeling his resolves crumbling—God! He couldn't say no to her for any damn thing as long as she kept looking at him like this!

"Amanda—" he started, but she interrupted him this time.

"Please, Rick, I have to do this. Oceanside is a forest, too. She will be more happy with us there than here—" she tried to explain further, and gave him another look just like that, "Please, Rick…" she repeated, "I—I can't—can't let her wither away in a cage—please."

Then Rick understood.

He nodded. "Okay, baby, okay. We'll get your pet," he said as she smiled big, "But you'll keep her in a leash just like Ezekiel used to do. Promise me. Promise me you'll never try to unleash her."

She gave her a look—but kept her mouth shut, "Amanda—promise me."

She then nodded, "Okay. I promise."

Rick let out a sigh. "God, Natania is gonna love this."

# # #

"Is it true you convinced Dad to take Shiva with us?" Carl asked her breathless beside the car, his eyes widened.

Amanda, smiling, nodded. "Yeah…" She turned aside, giving the teenage boy a look, "You know your dad never can say no to me."

Carl laughed out, "I wanna move out with Enid—" he told her back, "You're _so_ gonna tell him about it."

With that, the fifteen years old boy left and started walking away as Amanda stared after his retreating back while Kingdom's people started loading Shiva's cage in the dodge's back.

# # #

"How it went?" Amanda asked in the middle of their cabin, stopping her pacing when Rick walked into.

"You mean how it went when they learned you brought a pet tiger with us, a tiger who could eat as much as ten people?" Rick asked back, his voice quite sarcastic, sitting on the chair beside the door.

Amanda rolled her eyes. "We'll provide for her—" she said back, "And—and she's a good soldier. Ezekiel had brought her to the war. We can do too."

Rick's eyes snapped up at her, "Amanda—I'm telling this now, and I don't ever want to repeat myself again—" he told her, his voice stern, standing up, "She _isn't_ going anywhere. She'll be leashed _all_ the time. And you won't try to do something else." He walked to her, his eyes never leaving hers, "Do you understand?"

"It—it'd be a waste of good soldier, Rick—"

"Amanda!"

"Okay, okay—" She moved her hands up, "I'll—keep her safely. I promise."

He nodded. She thought if it'd be a good time to bring up Carl—she had no idea how Carl had really meant—moving out—but where? Enid had been living with Tara and Denise, and a few house away from them, and she couldn't understand why Enid wasn't coming to them if they wanted to live together…

At least they got more—excitements, always having one shit or another. "Rick—" She turned to him as the same time Rick called at her, too—

"Amanda—"

She looked at him, arching an eyebrow. Rick gave her a smile. "We're really becoming two halves of a whole—" he muttered as Amanda smiled warmly.

He walked closer to her, and taking her hand, he brough her back to the chair beside the door. Sitting down, he settled her across his lap on her hip, too, carefully angling her not to make a contact with her ass.

She was—she was really getting tired of this—having always a reminder of what had happened to her—couldn't even sit down on her ass… _She ain't gon' sit on her ass at least for two weeks, wanna bet?_

Amanda chased the memory off with silent growl… Those men—those men were in her list to deal with it when Sanctuary was fallen. The doctor was at the top place, and those two were sharing the second runner.

"What's it?" she asked Rick, turning her mind back to the room, back to the room, realizing a _talk_ was coming, too. "What happened?"

"I want to tell you something," he started slowly, his voice so soft but still having that firm timber in it, the voice that made something in her stir—every time… "But I want you to trust me. We need to do this. Together. It's for us. Daryl told me. When they were in the wild together after the prison, he told me they found this ramshackle cabin," he started recounting as Amanda listened in silence, "Daryl told her then about his childhood. You know things weren't easy for him, either." He paused a little, their eyes meeting when she lifted her head back up from his chest, "Beth—Beth told him they should burn it—burn it together, burn it before it ruins him."

She made a whimper, not knowing where exactly he was going with it, but understanding—understanding— "I think—I think they…they burned the elevator shaft together too—" His eyes moved downward again to find her, "You'd come to me in the morning before we leave, do you remember? You were so pissed, demanding where your ethanol is. The previous night some of it had gone missing, and you thought my people had taken it."

She smiled at the memory, remembering. Just before he'd left with other, they'd gotten into another fight again when Rick had told her he didn't know what the fuck she was talking about as she ended up seething at him she hoped she would've never seen his face ever again. Not one of the classic love story partings. "Ah—" she snickered, "You see—I knew it."

He bowed his head and kissed her at the tip of her nose. "Smartass." Then he stopped, his eyes grew sterner, looking at her, "We—need to do it, too, Amanda. We—need to burn the past."

She lowered her head and looked at her dress, "We—we could burn this dress, I guess," she said thoughtfully, "Though, you'd need to find me another one to wear then. I—I still can't wear pants." She paused, her eyebrows clenching, "Besides, I—I wasn't wearing this—"

"I know—" Rick suddenly told her, and her eyes snapped up at him so quick, her heart started beating madly.

The raising his hips slightly, he fished out something from his back pocket—an envelope… the size of her palm… like…like…like a photo… No. "Simon—Simon gave it to me this morning—" She gulped—her eyes blacking… _No. Please, god no…_

"It's your photo," then Rick told her, and she started crying again.

She—it—it never finished. She could never get away from this.

And Rick—Rick had seen her like that—A sob, a teary heartfelt sob escaped out of her as Rick's arms tightened around her further. "I don't care. I don't care… You're here—you're here back in my arms, and there's nothing more important than that. There is nothing more important than _us_, baby. We're never _ever_ going to look at it again. We just going to burn it. Burn it to ashes. As it should."

Her head still hid at his chest, Amanda nodded. She wanted it… She wanted to turn it to ashes… all of it… ashes… gone and forgotten.

He nudged at her, "And you're wrong," he whispered at her then, "He didn't break you. He thought he could—but you ripped off his fucking throat. That's my girl."

Through her cries, a laughter erupted out of her this time, mixed with a sob, and he nudged at the side of her hip gently again, and she lifted her head and looked up at him. "Let's do it."

Taking a deep breath, Amanda nodded. "Let's do it," she repeated.

Taking her hand as she stood up, he brought them outside beside the open furnace in the grounds and started making a fire inside the stone vault.

Kneeling over the forage, Amanda looked for the branches and dry leaves too, and adding it to his mix. It wasn't necessary. Rick was doing it quickly, they didn't need a big fire to burn a photo, either, she wanted to add her own participant too into the fire, just to make it clear. _You're dead, asshole, but I still live. Together with the man I love, together with my family. _

All things considered, nothing could've made a better statement.

When the fire started cracking in the night's cold air, Rick held her hand again, and gave the envelope to her. Without hesitation, she threw it into the fire, and they watched it burn, holding each other's hands in silence.

A minutes later, when there was nothing left but ashes, Rick tugged at her hand, "Let's get back to bed," he only told her.

Then Amanda knew it—felt it—she needed him tonight—she needed to give herself to him completely, wanting it—desperately—needing it so badly, but there was no disturbance in her like in usual, but only acceptance. It was Rick. The man she loved—the man she trusted the most all in the world, the man whose babies stirred in her insides. She—she could be vulnerable with him, let him take care of her… She wanted it. And she wasn't bothered it, not a damn bit.

"Rick—" she turned to him, resting herself at his side, "I—I need you tonight," she told him lowly, getting closer, telling him what she needed—because she could—because he was her husband, "So—so you need to find a way to fuck my brains out," she whispered at his ear, "Because I need you to make me forget everything."

His heated eyes found hers, and he gave her a smirk, his head moving her neck, "I always find a way, baby—" he told her back in a whisper as his lips found her neck.

She almost gasped at his touch before she uttered, "I _know_."

* * *

_Hurray!_

_First, Shiva is with Amanda, and they burned the damn photo together, and I finally made them talk about missing ethanol in Grady, heh. I was having that thought in my head for a looong while, Amanda and Rick fighting over the missing alcohol after Beth and Daryl stole it to burn the elevator shaft. I might even write it as a little one shot, telling each other "I hope I'll never see your face ever again" while parting. :)_


	30. Chapter 30

XXIX.

As it happened, Amanda discovered another fact of life; that tigers did indeed eat fish.

And it was indeed a good discovery. She'd been having qualms how to feed her new friend. Even though she'd told Rick they'd provide for the big cat, she'd known it was going to be a problem. Yet, she just couldn't leave her there. Just couldn't. Shiva had come to her on herself.

Setting the bucket with fish and a few birds on the ground beside her, she dropped on her knees, her legs finally covered with her trousers again instead of sheer stockings, her bulging stomach almost brushing over her knees. Lifting her head, she smiled at Shiva. "Morning, gorgeous," she greeted the big cat, her hand reaching out to stroke her fur. They'd tied the wild animal around a tree with the chain, and her eyes moved to it, her smile turning to a scowl. She really, really fucking hated shackles, but she'd also promised Rick.

It'd been almost three weeks now since the night Rick had made them burn the damn photo, and Amanda had been happy, mostly.

Rick had been away most of the times looking for guns and suppliers with Daryl, leaving Beth and her behind at the camp. Carl had stayed for a week before he'd turned back to Alexandria as well. She terribly missed them, missed her family, and she missed Judith the most.

She'd never spent so much time away from her baby angel since she'd left Atlanta with Beth. She had tried to talk to Rick a couple of times to return to Alexandria to see her baby, but each time Rich had refused saying it was too risky. She'd told him then to bring Judith back, but Rick hadn't wanted her out of the walls until it was absolutely necessary, and Amanda had conceded. Outside the walls for a baby, with a baby, was dangerous.

But she'd missed her baby so much. Missed her baby smell, missed her whining, missed her watch swaggering to her calling at her _mommiiieeee_ irritated, missed her cries, missed the way her lips pouting… She just missed her baby.

"I missed Judith so much," she told Beth as her friend walked to her, standing a few away from Shiva carefully as Amanda kept stroking Shiva's top of head, her hand vanishing inside her fur.

The regal beast moved her head with Amanda's motions, and Amanda smiled at her faintly again, gliding closer to the wild animal on her knees, almost cuddling the enormous cat. Shiva was huge—especially next to Amanda and Beth, nearly eight feet and more than three hundred pounds, so much Amanda sometimes wondered if she could really ride her if the animal would let her.

She laughed a little as Shiva twisted her head, and patted herself against her, moving toward Amada closer, "Hey, be careful—" Beth almost squeaked, seeing them.

"Hey, look—" she told Beth, shaking her head as Shiva's nose stroke under her chin, "She knows we intent no harm—" She dropped her eyes towards the big cat, "You know who brings you fish, right?"

Shiva moved her head almost in acceptance in return, and Amanda smiled further, "See—come here, pat her—" She nodded at Beth, turning aside, "Even Daryl petted her. C'mon—"

Expected, a sort of wild animal as himself, Daryl was the first one who had tried it. Carl was the second after Daryl. Rick had tried it a week later, when Amanda almost had begged him, slowly, hesitantly giving her a quick pet across her neck. Beth was still hesitant, though, giving wary looks at the big wild animal. "She's fine, and now just docile too. Come." She smirked, "She won't bite."

"No. Thanks. I like her better from here."

Amanda gave Shiva another pet with a sigh. "I really don't like keeping her at a leash all the time. I'm trying to tell Rick maybe I could take her into the woods for a walk—"

"Amanda, you can't be serious. You can't take a stroll with a tiger…"

"Why not?" she asked, "Tigers loves running, hunting. Maybe we should let her do her thing."

"I'm not even going to answer that—" Beth said, sitting down on the ground, still securely away from the leash's length and gave Amanda a look, "Rick won't let us return to Alexandria? Did you talk to him about it?"

"No—" She shook her head, "He says it's dangerous. I know it. But I really missed Judith."

"I missed Sam, too. He must be feeling so alone without us there," Beth said back, "Judith at least has got Carl. Sam doesn't have anyone else."

As Rick and Daryl were spending most of their times on the run or here with them, Sam didn't even Daryl now. Understanding, Amanda nodded. "I was talking to Rick maybe we could go to a supply run together this week," she continued, "They still couldn't find materials for the armors Kingdom would manufacture for us. Daryl said he'd seen a junkyard close to the quarry. We could go there and check it. I feel much better now, and I'm getting a bit _too_ worked up sitting here all day—fretting." She gave out another sigh, "You know me."

The hidden camp—wild forest, untouched beach, all of it was amazing, but as long as she had her family with her. When they were out there, scavenging, preparing while she sat here on her ass, well, Amanda had never been good with waiting. Thank god they still had the long-range radios, so they still managed to stay in connect whenever Rick left the camp or else Amanda must've really lost her mind.

"Maybe we could convince them to drop by Alexandria to see our little ones on the way," she told Beth hopefully, "Rick wouldn't like it, but I'd feel much better if I've got Judith with myself." She paused, "In any case, they'll still need to come here when Rick finally decides to hit the outposts."

They were _still_ waiting.

Amanda knew Rick bid his time, but she would've also felt a bit better if something happened soon enough. To Rick, it wasn't of course waiting, he was out there almost every day, he was preparing, regrouping, but to Amanda, it was still damn waiting.

Besides, Amanda really wanted to talk with this Laura. Somehow, she was feeling the woman might be the key to get Rick to reach the people in Sanctuary. There had to be a way. They needed to find it.

_I always find a way, baby—_Amanda remembered out of blue, a heat rising to her—a flush crawling over up from her neck, her vision suddenly filling with the ways he'd found to have her that night. Quite impressive, very creative, if she was to be asked, always adaptable, her man.

Another smile tugged at her lips, as something else tugged deep in her core, twisting, getting wet like each time she started thinking Rick. Dropping her hand from Shiva, she let out a sigh. She was getting in heat again—God!

Maybe she was just horny because of her pregnancy… She was in her second semester now, roughly in her forth month, even her bump had begun showing up quite impressively, something was making her feel all giddy. She'd always heard pregnant women had a sex drive, the boost of energy the worst—or the best—kinds during pregnancy because of hormonal changes. They hadn't seen each other for three days—so really, it must be quite understandable that she was getting wet.

Standing up holding her bulging stomach, she wondered if she could get Rick on his knees again in front of her—doing that thing to her with his tongue—or better sit on his face just like the last time—Before her thoughts went more out of the control she drew back from the wild animal, turning to Beth, just as the same time her radio cracked up, "Amanda—do you copy?"

A big smile broke over her lips… She took the radio and brought it up, "And I was just thinking of you, honey," she purred, clinking on the push button with a sly laughter.

There was a brief silence from the other side over the static, and Rick cleared his throat a little, "Uh—we're returning. We'll be there at nightfall."

Amanda smiled again, "Good—" and winked at Beth, "We _can't_ wait." She paused, and went on before he could radio back, "Found anything—"

"Usual. We'll talk when we're back."

"Roger that," Amanda said and severed the connection.

She walked toward Beth, "Let's get prepared."

# # #

The best part of the supply runs was returning to home—or to Amanda, in their current situation—seeing her again smiling at him, bursting with a barely contained energy she hardly managed to hide, her eyes glinting staring at him.

As soon as they took a step inside the cabin, she started revealing him off his dirt, sweat, and blood soaked clothes, pulling his shirt off of his jeans as his hands quickly started unbuckling her belt and trousers, not even giving themselves time to clean up like horny teenagers. Not that Rick minded… He swore her pants under his breath. If—if she'd been still wearing her dress, he would've already hoisted her up in his arms, already finding his way in… He yanked off the belt off her waist, shaking his head, "I really like you better in dresses—" he grunted as she kicked off her boots as well.

She let out a chuckle, her hands working on his shirt— "I _bet_—" she breathed out as Rick slipped her trousers off her legs, "When I'm back at home, I'm gon' wear dresses for you all time, baby—without nothing underneath—" she said, laughing, her lips started licking his neck, "So I could be under your hand always ready—" She gave out another laughter, "Tactical advantage, eh?"

He grabbed her at her panties, and pulled her eve closer, holding her waist, "You're the damn best tactician I've ever known—" and shot back before throwing her down to the bed.

Five, fifteen, or fifty minutes later, Rick rolled over her to the low cot mattress on his back as Amanda heaved out with deep, laborious breaths, glowing in her orgasmic bliss in silence like always she did, gazing at the ceiling, her body still having tremors. Rick threw his arm over her bulging stomach—not any more a slight sight but arching gently forward, skidding his palm over it. It calmed him just as the orgasms did, perhaps even more so.

His eyes caught a small red scar reaching at the side of her hips as she lay on her back beside him—and Rick moved his gaze up from it—touching her ass as they fucked was a—necessity, they barely registered her scars during sex—but when everything was settled—seeing them still made him—furious, wanting to rip off something.

They'd burned her photo, burned that fucking thing but still Rick couldn't help it—couldn't stand seeing—feeling it.

Flipping on her side after a while, Amanda snugged at his chest as his arms cuddled her automatically, her bump, their babies pressed at his side. This was the way they usually talked about supply runs—after fucking each other's brains out. Rick wasn't complaining… "Not bad. Found half of a dozen guns in an abandoned cabin and a couple of canned fruit."

She made a face. "They're possibly already gone bad," she said with a sigh.

Rick reflected her sigh too, "Possibly."

"Ammo?"

Rick shook his head.

"And materials for armor?" she asked further, "Metal and such…?"

He again shook his head.

She raised on her elbow to look at him. "Rick, darling, do you remember Darly saying that he'd seen a junkyard. Why not we go to there and check it out?" she asked, "There must be even a vehicle graveyard. We could use them for barricades, trenches and use the carcasses for making armors."

Rick gave her a thoughtful. It was a good possibility too. In a waste heaps they could scavenge a lot of materials for building better barricades like she'd said, and they could use steel plates of the scrapped materials. He'd put it back before he had wanted to look for guns and ammo first, but they had to think about other stuff too. "Okay. I'll talk to Daryl. We'll go look around."

Then Amanda said, "We want to come, too—" His eyes snapped at her, "Beth and I—"

"Amanda, no—" Rick said on the automatic reflex, his hand finding her stomach again, "Please—we've talked it before."

They'd talked it many times now, and but somehow, they just kept talking about it more and more. "Rick—"

"You know how dangerous outside it is—" he said, "and you're even showing now."

"Well—" she said then, "You really don't expect me sit in for the rest of five remaining months, do you, Rick?" she asked, "Beside—remember, it's hard to hold my hand when I'm not beside you…" she said, a smile quirking her lips up as her hand found his, "And—and Alexandria's on the way—so perhaps we...uh…might drop by—"

Shaking his head at her, Rick gave her a look. "I _knew_ it."

Her smiled turned into a pout, "Rick—I really miss Judith—please—" His eyes still stared at her, she bowed her head, getting closer to him, rubbing herself across his cheek, along his jawline over —in a way—like Shiva did, scrapping her head over his beard.

Rick let out a chuckle. "You're passing quite of time with that cat, baby—"

She lifted her head from his neck, "Is that a yes?"

Rick looked at her in the eye again, "You can't stay—" he told her to clarify because if he'd had to be honest, the main reason why he hadn't wanted to take her back to Alexandria or Judith to her was that he was afraid if it'd have been made it harder for her—saying goodbye to her baby again. But—but three weeks—three weeks—Rick had known mustering their forces back was going to take a while, but this was getting harder for her.

"I know—" Amanda said, nodding, "I—just missed her."

"I know," Rick told her, holding the back of her neck again to bring her on his shoulder, "Baby, I know…"

# # #

Alexandria.

Home.

Amanda understood it as soon as she put a step inside—feeling it—running through her high, this was her home, where she belonged, like everything in her clinked in again—all missing pieces falling in their places.

But Alexandria was still trying to recuperate from the last attack.

The main gate was still of different makeshift panels welded together between burned beams, the watch platform again had suffered the same fate, dark and burned, and the greens close to the gate had taken their share from the scourge as well from the rocket launcher.

She saw Carl's favorite gazebo at the backyard close to the walls, where he sat at the top of it, watching outside was half burned too, and just seeing it almost made her eyes wet again.

Yet—yet they were alive. They were still here. And it all was going to pass.

Rick took her hand as they stepped out the car and started walking to the house. The townspeople greeted them with enthusiasm as they did, seeing them back again, but Amanda could still see the wariness inside their eyes. If they'd been here, if they'd been really here when Simon had come look for them, all of them meant it could've been a disaster.

Amanda shook the thought away, instead only look ahead. She was here to see her baby. Her little baby angel. How she'd missed it… Everything was going to be okay. She was still half expecting everything turned to bad whenever they stepped out of their comfort zone, but she didn't focus on the feeling—knowing it was only her fears…

Then she saw them—stepping outside the porch slowly, Carl holding Judith's hands as her baby climbed down the steps wobbling quickly, trying to get to her as quick as possible, seeing Amanda walking to them.

She yanked off her hand from Rick and started running to her. Just at the little pathway beside the flowerbeds, she took Judith again in her arms…feeling everything in her clinking… her babies insides, Judith in her arms again, her scent in her nostrils…

Then of course, it happened again…tears started slipping away from her eyes.

It was damn hormones—she was sure of it! Hormones!

She picked up Judith—settling Judith over her bump, like—like she just fit over her bump too—clinked in—and then—almost groaned- "Hey, be careful—" Carl said, "She's getting heavier."

Amanda smiled, "Sweet pie—what they're feeding you, honey?" she asked, lifting her head up—"Wow—my girl's getting so bigger—"

"Mommiee—" Judith said back in answer and made a gesture with her lips throwing herself down at her, "Mua mua—"

Amanda laughed, "Wanna a kiss?" she asked, bringing her baby to herself, and gave her a big, open-mouthed, loud kiss on the cheek, "MUA—"

Sam came out to the porch then, running to Daryl, wrapping his arm over his waist. The usually gruff hunter stayed still for a second as Beth came their side and threw her arms over both of them, too, then Daryl's arms too circled them—protectively—knitted like a family. Amanda smiled further at seeing the scene.

They went inside, altogether, like a big, happy family she'd ever dreamed of.

# # #

Leaving them back at the house, Rick went out to find Eugene. Negan had confiscated the fuel tank when they'd come but they still had gas, as scarce as it was. Fuel—fuel was becoming even harder to find than food or guns, and perhaps was becoming as valuable as medicine. And Rick was damn aware that in a year or so, it was going not going to be found ever again. The comforts of their old world were in extinction. If he wanted to build a future, a real future, a better life, Rick knew finishing this war was only going to be the first step.

No. They—they had to build something—the past…the past the key to their future now. When this war finished, they needed to go to that museum Reg had talked about and found out schematics, drawings, tools and mechanisms from the past. They had to build them from the scratch. They had to tame horses, even bulls, if they could find them. They were going to need wagons, carts, wheels, all the transportation vehicles people used to use before electricity.

Guns, foods, metals, meds—yes, they were all important resources, but none of them was as priceless as the information.

Eugene for that matter was one of the most important resources they had, Rick also knew. He found the eccentric man in the warehouse at the backyard where he'd turned as his workshop.

Rick hadn't seen the man since last week—since when his last drop by, and he was curious now how his preparations were going. His eyes dropped the casket of Molotov cocktails the engineer had been preparing with Rosita, his partner in crime when it came to making things go blow up.

Last week, they'd managed to find out dynamites in another supply run—rigged by the Saviors for dealing with a herd that was coming toward them—possibly an arm of the herd they'd hurdled up to unleash at Sanctuary weeks ago.

They'd gathered the explosives, Rosita managing to disable them, even keeping the herd on the main road for—any—uh—emergencies.

He wasn't still sure of the plan—but perhaps they would still need to the herd to siege Sanctuary inside, forcing people inside as Amanda worked on her own plan. They still didn't know how to get people at Sanctuary know what they truly were offering—a world, a world no one was needed to kneel when it wasn't asked, where everyone was just expected to make their own contribution for a life a bit better—perhaps not only for themselves, but for the next generations.

A part of him still wanted revenge—a reckoning, for all the things they'd done, and he knew that day was also coming. _Mercy for the lost, vengeance for the plunderers._ The words had been what they'd put out at their gates for the Wolves' attack, and the day for reckoning was coming for Simon and his all followers too, and when that day came, what they'd done, what hurts they'd caused, their crimes will be answered too.

Rick bowed his head and looked at the crate at the floor, carefully stacked the Molotov cocktails again. "How many?"

"Another casket is finished, six—" Rosita replied, "We were just going to move it downside."

Downside.

Scared of another surprise visit, Rick had wanted to hide all their findings, guns, ammo, dynamites, explosives in a trap door they had managed to build inside the church—hiding it a cellar beneath the altar. The idea had come from Gabriel, though, the enigmatic priest telling them God would look after them.

Rick hadn't listened to the words, of course, but people were different when it came to religion, so Rick had taken the tactical advantage.

Rick nodded at the duo. "We're going to a junkyard," he told them then, "Will do a bit scavenging for the metals and materials. Wanna come?"

Springing on her feet, Rosita stood up, "Yeah—" Rick turned to Eugene.

"I surmise my expertise is more equipped here—" the engineer started, but Rick cut him off.

"No—we need your expertise out there too—dealing with materials," he told the man, taking his arm to pull him at his feet, "and don't worry, we wouldn't lose your expertise." Letting the man go, he nodded at them, "We leave in twenty, get ready."

Twenty minutes. They needed to get back to Oceanside before the sunset, and Rick was really couldn't wait summer come again, having much daylight, warmer air, even though it meant more danger.

It was around March now—the spring had already come—even though the weather didn't look like it was aware of it. But soon April sun was going to come, and the flowers would blossom—and then a couple of later Amanda was going to give birth their twins.

The prospect—the childbirth had started giving him new scars at the back of his mind as the day approached fast, but each time Rick had managed to put it back, focusing on what was important. The war, finishing it, getting her back where she belonged—building a better for their children… But—but Amanda's first scares when she'd learned she was pregnant with twins had started plaguing him.

Giving birth twins in their condition—if only he could take her a real hospital—a real one like Grady, where she or the babies could be properly treated if something happened—if something went wrong as it'd happened with Lori—

No.

Rick put the thought away. No. He shouldn't have thought it.

But—but it was happening so fast. The pregnancy. Almost half of it was gone, and Rick could swear it'd passed like a blink, and he was afraid if he would blink another, the other half would pass like that, as well, and he would find her in labor.

Thank god, Amanda hadn't still caught up his worries—and she seemed to be living through a new-found energy zest, her hormones running over her high and wild, her libido emitting out of her every pore. She'd even managed to get him into… radio-sex with her once they'd been apart but in the range in the night— No. She was bursting with life and Rick wanted her stay like that always…like she was supposed to, and seeing her like this was giving him another zest too, the feel of being capable, being in power… He could do this… He _could_ do it…

He found them back in the house, playing with Judith. Carl had found some finger paint from somewhere and sitting over a white sheet in the empty hall's floor they were painting it with Beth, Carl, Judith and Sam. Even Daryl was with them, aside them, not painting the sheet—but just standing close to Beth and Sam, watching them smiling…

"Man, I once saw a painting just like this one—" He looked at Beth as she knelt on her knees, swept the sheet over with her palm—red, brown, and yellow all together— "Told Carol it looked like a dog popped." He pointed at Beth's figure with his head, "Sure like it now."

Tilting her head, Beth pouted, and looked up at Rick, "Rick, can you please tell your friend here not to be a spoilsport?" she asked him nicely.

Rick obliged quickly, "Daryl, don't be a spoilsport."

The hunter chuckled out.

Amada lifted her head, "C'mon, over here—" she called him, lifting her hand, "Make your own contribution to this fine piece of art, honey."

Kneeling down beside her , Rick pressed his palm over the paint too, and made his print just beside theirs. Four palm prints, each different than the other, Judith's tiny one, Carl's bigger one, Amanda's long and narrow one next to his own largest print. Their family.

He leaned aside and kissed her at the cheek. "We're gonna make it again when the babies are born," he whispered her, promising her. They were going to. Two tiniest, littlest prints were going to add up there soon.

Rick was going to make sure of it.

Her eyes found his, a silent, brief understanding passing between, and she almost trembled beside him before Rick leaned again to give her another kiss.

# # #

Leaving Judith again behind was the hardest thing she'd ever done, a part of her still wanting her baby with her. But she couldn't do it, she couldn't take the risk. She knew her baby angel was safer with Carl.

They could only leave after she'd gone to sleep because Amanda hadn't wanted her to cry after her—knowing she would've if she saw Amanda—her mommiee leaving her.

Never!

She would never leave her babies… _Never_.

God, this really hurt—and she almost burst into tears again, even now, sitting in the car as Rick drove to that junkyard.

Damn her hormones!

She was really turning to a crybaby.

_This big crybaby here is Mommy—_Rick had introduced her to their babies like that, guessed he'd been right again.

They had in two separate cars. One was filled with them, the other having Rosita, Eugene, and also Michonne as Rick had wanted more manpower with them to go through the junkyard.

She'd been so much in her own feelings she hadn't even scowled that Michonne's participant with them—something she'd never liked even though the woman was a good fighter, or simply because she'd stopped being bothered of the Afro-American woman, she didn't know. Rick loved her—and she was feeling it so powerfully in her every atoms Michonne had stopped being…bothersome. No, she simply didn't _like_ her seeing with Rick now... Rick was _hers_.

"What?" Rick asked while parking the vehicle, the red pick up getting close to the junkyard.

"Nothing—" she said, smiling at her husband, and stepped out of the car, holding her bumpy stomach.

They were close to the site, a few miles away. They were going to cover the rest of the way on feet like they usually did before they approached a new location, scouting the area first in sheath.

The road to the junkyard was almost unpaved, its asphalt had been trodden away in negligence and by the heavy garbage trucks before the turn. They walked in a steady pace in three lines, their eyes trained ahead, alert as Rick was holding her hand tightly in his grip, like he'd promised.

They walked a quarter or so at the deserted road, lined by trees, Rick squeezing her hand every now and then before suddenly they heard it—at first faintly—somewhere…in the air.

All of them stopped, heads bowed in concentration to hear it—closer as their hands went to their arms protectively. Rick held the string of his rifle tightly, rising the weapon a bit higher, getting ready to position as Amanda unholstered her own. "What's that?" Daryl asked, rising his gun too, his crossbow hung at his back.

"I don't know—" Rick said, as others followed their examples as the sounds got closer and closed, "It's like—like—" He faltered, lifting his head, and Amanda did too—recognizing it— "Like—propeller?" he asked.

Then they saw it—a sight that Amanda thought they would've never seen again—a sight from a world they'd lost.

A helicopter.

A helicopter was passing over their heads.

* * *

_A little bit interim for a little world-building, and they finally saw the helicopter for the first time. I tried to play this chapter as the opening act of the new episode after a mid-season finale, which was the last chapter._

_They will meet with Jadis and her people with the next chapter. The show didn't still explain a lot what the hell is going on with helicopter(and CRM) and I've never watched the Fear of Walking Dead, so I'm going to use my own ideas using the comic lore for that. Frankly, I even don't know what will happen myself much, I only have some ideas. I hope to figure it out while writing :)_


	31. Chapter 31

XXX.

His eyes still fixated at the sky, he saw the shadow passing over the clouds—the sounds of the propellers drumming in his ears, then on reflex, he lunged forward, shouting at an order, "Take cover. Now!"

Grabbing Amanda's hand again, he started running to the trees at the roadside. The others followed him quickly as they all understood what was happening.

Her eyes widened, Amanda still was staring at the sky startled, just like the rest of them. A helicopter—a fucking helicopter still operational. Rick didn't even want to imagine the people who had it—their resources… still keeping a helicopter in the sky even in two and a half year after the turn.

Then Rick thought—like a sudden lighting in his mind—perhaps that was it… the thing he'd been trying to get a little bit of proof since the beginning of the turn but had lost hope.

A little proof that somewhere out there—there was still a small—the smallest fraction of their old-world order; the police, feds, DHS, national guards, military itself—hell even CIA.

Those agencies that might have contingency plans—people who had been trained perhaps not something like this—not for the dead returning, but at least people with a plan.

He still didn't know how much it would mean—even if it did—the world had turned to another place, and people still measured you on how much they could take from you—but still… A helicopter in the sky meant at least a better technology… And Amanda—his wife was going to have to give birth to twins in less than five months.

Quickly he quickly took out his bino and craning his neck up again he levelled at the flying monster above them to pick up a familiar insignia. At first he couldn't see it anything over the black canvas, then as his head twisted to follow the length of the massive aircraft…he saw it. He focused the bino better and looked at the symbol he'd seen at the back of the helicopter.

Over the black, there were three simple rings half passing through each other like a half of Olympic rings. Two of them were above, the other one was below at them—all circling each other. Nudging at Amanda, lowering his head back, he handed the bino to her. "Look at it—"

Amanda took it fast and looked up at the aircraft under the trees too, then lowering it, she turned to him. "What's that?" she asked.

"A banner or something—" Rick reasoned as the airborne vehicle flied away over their heads. His look turned to Daryl and others as they had taken behind them under the trees. "Have you seen it before?" Rick questioned the hunter. Daryl was the one who was outside the walls the most of all Alexandria, but the other man shook his head too.

"It was an earlier model of Black Hawk—" Eugene said behind them, "Possibly date at the beginning of the millennia. They were mostly out of commission now."

Rick thought about it. He'd fairly recognized the helicopter itself too, even though not its model date like Eugene. A group or a community must have managed to find it abandoned somewhere. They'd seen crashed vehicles before a couple of times—but still—the symbol—everything. He turned to Amanda. "Have you ever seen helicopter or something at Sanctuary?" he asked to be sure.

Understanding him, Amanda shook her head. "No. I don't think it's them."

Inwardly, Rick swore. It just never ended. He wondered how far they were away from Alexandria now—more than twenty miles or so at west—and the helicopter had come from east-north, from D.C. and flied away to west-south. Rick wondered if it'd come from the old capital. If any resemblance of the old world had stayed there it must've been in D.C., that was what they'd always believed, but the symbol again made things worrisome.

"Okay—" he told to his group, grabbing his rifle, and tapped at the butt of it, a gesture he seemed to pick up on its own— "Okay, let's move. But be careful. If we saw anything suspicious, we fall back." He shook his head, "The last thing we need now is another big bad wolf in the woods."

No. They had enough.

As they moved back to the down-trotted path, Rick took Amanda's hand again. As they walked to the Junkyard, her eyes scanning the road and the trees at the roadside, she spoke beside him, "I never understood that story, you know—" she said, her eyes skipping at him for a beat before she continued, "A little girl's going to the woods alone…Why?"

Rick glanced at her, too, even though he couldn't understand her fully, "To bring her grandma's supper…" he reminded her.

"Yes," Amanda agreed, "But why she? Why she's going _alone_?" she asked, glancing at him again, too, "I mean what kind of a mother would send her little daughter alone out in the woods like that?" she inquired, sounding almost baffled, and Rick gave her another look, "Why she's not going with her? Why she's not going herself anyways?" She paused, grimacing, "I mean could you send Judith out here in the woods when you know how dangerous it's?"

He gave her a smile then. "Well, it's just a story, to warn children not to—"

"Go off the path," she cut in, "or else you'd get lost," she snickered as they got closer to Junkyard. "I know," she said as they passed through a fenced parking lot, clusters of old junk heaps already started mounting around them, "But it doesn't make sense," she continued, "No sense at all. When come to think of it, what the fuck the grandma is doing in the woods all alone like that, huh? Why she isn't in the village too? Why doesn't live with her family but stays in the woods. Have they left her there? I mean…so we're supposed to believe that these people left her all alone in a cabin in the woods, but then got worried about her nutrition diet?" She shook her head, snorting, then stopped, her grimace souring even further, "Maybe they just wanted to get rid of the red hood…" she said slowly.

His steps faltering for a bit inside the junkyard, he squeezed her hand. "She was okay. The Huntsman found her at the end," he reminded her.

Her eyes turned to him, her fingers tightened around his fingers as she smiled at him faintly, "Yeah, he did—" She paused as their eyes stared at the mountains of junk heaps that lay ahead of them, "I hope he brought her to his home. She couldn't stay with that sorry excuse of a family," she said, and asked, looking at her hopefully, "Would he adopt her right?"

Rick let out a low laugh, "Yeah, sure he would."

She made a face, "You know—I really don't understand the children tales… I mean—look at Goldilocks… Another little cute girl lost in the woods, and found this little cabin—again… and, seriously, there's a pattern there, too—anyways… there's that little girl the bears found in their house, all sleeping like an angel—and you'd really expect them to adopt her or something but they just got mad because of a soup and a fucking broken chair! Wow!"

Another laugh, and Rick shook his head, starting to look for the real entrance through the scattered containers. They needed to look through those heaps, search them thoroughly. This might be a gold mine if they could do it properly. From their left side, he could see a graveyard of old vehicles as well—the rusted, old vehicles rusting away in negligence and disuse, left behind, forgotten. "The chair wasn't broken," Rick told her then, turning his gaze from the old cars, "_She_ broke it when she sat down."

She laughed back at it, "Really?" she asked, sounding incredulous, "So you say that chair wouldn't hold a little girl but could've supported a baby _bear_?" She shook her head, "No—darling, that chair was _already_ broken, and anyone who sat on it would've fallen down no matter who."

Rick shook his head at her, "I can't imagine how it would've been watching TV with you like—" he said with a smile, "You would've bitched all through the plot."

She snorted with a shrug as they got close to the fences, "Yeah—not my fault they got so glaring plot holes…"

"We should make a movie night—" Rick told her then, suddenly wanting it do it with her, lounge at the couch and watch TV—they had a TV and DVD player they never used to save energy, watching TV was a luxury now, but perhaps once in a while they could do it… after the kids went to the sleep, they would watch a crime or detective movie together, lounging in each other's arms, his one hand holding the remote control, the other between her legs—and she would bitch about plot holes and inconsistency all the while Rick slowly slipped his hand under her dress—yes…she—she should wear her nightdress as well—nothing underneath… always under his hand...

A soft crunch of metal stopped his line of thoughts—as Rick spun around, his rifle raised again as their bonded hands got separated. The rest of them mimicked him as well, hearing the voice, Amanda the first one, drawing out her gun quickly as Daryl followed her behind.

As they aimed their weapons, a crowd slowly moved out behind the containers, holding guns—pointed back at them.

# # #

Well, if their lives been a story, Amanda would've called themselves idiots right now—walking in a trap once again with their own feet.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained… she reminded herself then, it was the way of progress, but she really fucking hated it—guns pointing at each other in a standoff.

And the worst part—the worst part—they were outnumbered again. The group didn't look like having a lot of guns, but they were a crowd, fifty or more so, all looking like had escaped from Mad Max universe.

Junkyard people—she looked at them carefully, their appropriate post-apocalyptic attire, long coats, filthy old jeans or leather. Her eyes wandered briefly over the Junkyard, who—who would live in such a place?

Well, the answer was just staring back at her.

No one had talked yet—they were just staring at each other at the end of their barrels—then suddenly, Rick lowered his rifle in a single motion, almost crafty—showing off in a weird way, then he started smiling.

# # #

Her gun still trained ahead, Amanda's eyes trailed off toward him, giving him a look, almost saying _seriously_ as Rick smiled at the newcomers.

As he smiled at the new turn of events.

If their lives would've been a show, Rick would've cried out at TV now oh, come one, but then again who didn't appreciate some occasional plot twists every now and then. There lay his last plot twist, looking at him blankly as Rick smiled at them faintly.

He had wanted guns—wanted more people to wield them, and in a twist of fate, he had found them. Why wouldn't have felt…happy for that?

"Rick?" Amanda asked him, her eyes still on him warily, her voice sounding as if—_what the hell are you doing?_

"Lower your guns," Rick told them, motioning with his head, "We need these people."

"Rick!" she said back, and it meant, _you can't be serious about it!_

"Lower your guns," he repeated—_I am._

# # #

Amanda couldn't fucking believe it.

They—they were here to look for supplies, not recruit people. And these people—they were something that made her on pin and needles with these people, with their cold, detached stares, their spaced-out lingering movements as they calmly paced around them, holding their guns as if holding a piece of bread in their hands.

Their leader was tall, willowy, skinny woman with a weirdest hair style Amanda had ever seen on someone, the end of the world or not. Back at the days, she must've dyed her dark brown hair as the ends of her hair that loosely touched at her shoulders were bleached blonde, or she'd found someone to put some ombre in her hair in the apocalypse.

Like the rest of her people, she moved in that gliding, slow listless manner, even the way she talked was the same, no complete sentences but broken—detached words as if she couldn't bother with anything more than that.

After Rick had made them lower their guns, they'd taken them, they brought them the junkyard's deeper parts through a container. Around them, the heaps of junk and garbage lay as far as the eye could see, old furniture, scraps, broken tools and machines, of all sorts. It—it was really impressive in a way—if it didn't smell this awful, even for their standards, and they weren't standing in a bowel of mountains of shit.

"We don't share," the woman told him placidly after Rick had explained why they had come to Junkyard, _why_ they needed metals and materials, "Don't give away."

"Yes, but you trade, right?" Rick asked back, "We can trade."

The woman shook her head, and craned backwards slowly, and gave Rick a through look, assessing, "We take," she said, her eyes firmly on Rick, "we don't bother."

Amanda scowled, not only because of the words, but the look _she_ was giving her husband. The urge to leap forward and grab his hand, marking her territory boosted in her like a wildfire, but she barely held herself back from doing it, hanging on her last shred of reason with everything she got… God, she fucking hated when this happened!

And why—why each time they discovered a new community, she needed to…shoo away flies…

"Look—" Rick told them then, "I'm sorry but you have to understand that your _lifestyle_—" he continued, "is danger as well. Those people I told you—the Saviors, they'll come for you one day too. They're expending. They will find this place, too, then they'll make you _bother_."

When Negan had made a move at Hilltop, it was what they had been afraid too—that if they'd stayed still—if they hadn't fought, they would've lost everything they had.

"Want us fight?" the woman asked Rick back, tilting her head aside, her neck still craned a bit back, "Want us fight for you?"

"With us—" Rick corrected.

"We don't fight—" the woman cut him off, and lowering her head down back, she gave Rick a faintest smile, "We don't bother."

"We'll give you guns—" Rick said then, fixing at her a look, "You can keep them later."

That made her listen to Rick more carefully, Amanda could tell. There were fifty or more so people, but only a dozen of them had weapons. "How many?" she inquired further.

"As many as can fight—" Rick encountered.

"What else?" the woman bargained further.

"You'll have your own share—" Rick said back as vaguely as possible.

Amanda held a snicker inside. She'd bargained first Daryl then with Rick to split the suppliers at Grady, and she was expecting from the woman demand from Rick something more valid too, but the taciturn tall woman only nodded at him, her eyes still heavily on Rick, "Hmm—" she said aloud, and flicked a hand toward him, "Come."

The woman turned on her heels, her second in commands, following her, as Amanda shared a look with Rick. He gave her a little half of a nod, then he turned around too—and Amanda lunged forward and grabbed his hand.

No!

No—he couldn't go away from her!

They could never be separated from each other, ever again.

"I'm coming, too!" she hissed. The woman and his company heard her a few feet ahead of them and turned aside. The woman's eyes fell on the tangled fingers, and a derisive small smile curved her lips up, but then turned back again and started walking away.

Their hands still tangled, Rick gave her a look, and she read it inside stay—but she returned it sternly. _No_.

No. Whatever place they were going now, Rick wasn't going there alone. No.

But they weren't only going a place, they were climbing… They'd made a turn around the biggest mountain behind them, and Amanda saw a sort of steps over the heaps, almost like a staircase. The woman, the name they still didn't know, started climbing it—and Amanda started thinking this was a very big mistake. A big, fat ass, stupid mistake.

They reached at the top of the mountain of garbage a few minutes later, Amanda holding her bump with one hand as the other still grabbed by Rick. The climb wasn't difficult, even the smells had started lessening closer to the open air. Amanda was very glad that her sickness had started lessened too, otherwise she could've thrown up since now a couple of times.

It hadn't finished yet, of course, even in the second semester, some of the mornings, she still woke up with her insides churning, but overall everything was getting better with her pregnancy, something that made feel all better—her thoughts cut off stiffly as they reached at the peak, and Amanda stared ahead—the piles, and piles, the mountains after mountains, stretching out around them in the open sky in a strange color of grey and dust.

The scene… it was…monumental in a weird way—seeing it above, like all filth and dirt down there had turned into something else, something grander, something majestic, something…beautiful. Rick was the same beside her too, gazing at the sight lay around them.

"Home—" the woman waved her hand in the air calmly—slowly, understanding their bewilderment, and repeated, "_Home_." She turned to Rick, "All of us, here since the change," the woman continued, taking a breath between each sentence before she started another, "Things grow harder. We open cans, sometimes inside's rotten. Time's passed. Winds are changing. Things are again changing."

Amanda let out a resigned. "_The times they are a-changing_," she quoted, the old famous tune turning some back of her mind, and somehow it felt appropriate, because it was the truth everyone felt deep in their bones… Change… Better or worse… she didn't know yet, but it was coming.

As if the woman understood what she'd meant, she turned to Amanda, "_If your time to you is worth saving—_" she quoted back, "_Then you better start swimmin'_"

Her lips almost curved up in that small way again before she turned aside to Rick and threw him off the mountain of garbage.

# # #

"Rick!" Amanda's scream echoed in his ears as Rick tumbled over the slope of the trash mountain and landed in a small opening at the ground where from the other side he could still hear the other's screams, and above his head, Amanda's furious voice shouted, "Goddammit! What did you do!"

He pulled back at his feet, and lifting his head to locate her upward, he raised his arm too, "I'm all right," he shouted back at her, told the others at the other side. He—he seemed to be in a sort of—arena, he understood as his eyes roamed over the place quickly.

Rick lifted his head again, this time to the damn woman, "What's this?" he yelled.

"Need to know you're real with this—" the woman's calm voice carried over him from above, "that you're worth it."

With fury, he shook his head seething. She was going to _test_ him. He fucking hated being tested! He gritted his teeth in anger, but whatever the test was, at least this time it wasn't Amanda. No. Amanda was still above at the top of the mountain—thank god!

"Look—we don't need this—" Amanda started, Rick heard from above, "I mean—whatever it's—we don't need it—"

The woman gave her a look, and for a moment, Rick felt a scare that the bitch was going to throw her down too—but she only shrugged in return, "Need to know."

"Fine!" she yelled, "What he has to do?"

"This—" the woman answered back then her head bowed down, and her eyes found him, and Rick heard a metal stretching behind him—He spun on his kneel at the sound.

What he'd first assumed as a sort of a metal was a metal…door, and it was opening—revealing a cage like structure behind, then Rick understood. It was a container deep under the heaps, and from inside a…monster was coming.

Rick swore under his breath, seeing it wobbling at him blindly.

A walker—an armored with spikes walker was coming at him—drawn to the sounds he'd just made tumbling down—spikes pushing out of the breastplate and helm he was wearing, his mouth opening and closing in fervor beneath it, growling like a wild animal.

"Rick!" Amanda screamed above him again as Rick turned and started climbing over the garbage wall—but inside this side there were no steps like outside—and for every step he took, he took a back—and fell down on the ground again.

A fucking gladiator… They were going to make him fight like a fucking gladiator. Not only for entertainment, but also to prove himself if he was worth of it.

Well, if that was what the woman wanted to see—then Rick was going to show her. He rose to her feet again, turning madly around himself to locate something to use as weapon as the walker lunged forward—He ducked and grabbed the first thing his hand found—a keyboard.

With all of his force, he banged it against the helmed head but of course the plastic thing broke in two just at the same time it hit at the steel. The walker launched at him further, his teeth clinking in hunger with his loud growls.

Without nothing else to do, Rick put his hand at the head, pushing the head back as it tried to get a bit on him—a spike on the helm going through his palm.

Pain cut him in—but growling out the same, Rick pushed the rotting head away from him-sweat running over his back with pain—blood pouring out of his hand over his wrist soaking him… "Rick!" and Amanda was still screaming above—

With a screaming growl, his fury and anger boiling in his veins with pain, he lifted his hand and kicked the dead off, all the while cutting inside of his thigh as well.

The walker dropped off away from him at the ground as Rick stumbled back against the garbage wall—pain sending hot surges of fire through all of his body, every nerve in his body screaming with it—the wound at his leg throbbing even worse than his hand…

And the fucking thing was coming at him again— "Rick—!" Amanda yelled at him again above, and momentarily his head shot up at her from the monster in front of him, and saw her—she was on her knees, almost crawling towards him—her eyes shining—but not with unshed tears, but with fury— and their eyes held each other for a second, "Get up, and fight!" she shouted, "Show her your goddamn BITE!"

His eyes grew heated as their eyes still glued at each other, then Rick turned, got up, and fought.

He looked at the skipping walls—garbage piled up on another and other—and started pulling them down—toward the walker.

Some of them also hit him, but quick on his feet Rick managed to get away at the last second, moving around the walker, and managed to get him under a pile at the third pull as big bags of trash raining upon them, sticking at the undead beneath.

Wobbling on his injured leg, he walked to the walker, and his eyes caught a piece of broken glass on the ground. Kneeling, he also saw a piece of cloth nearby, and picked up the glass wrapping the cloth around it.

He knelt then beside the monster and started stabbing it under the helm, from wherever he could get a hit, again and again—again and again…his blood now singing with fury and anger, and pain—his nerves releasing its pent-up energy, the putrid, stinking black blood of the dead sprayed at his face—his hands once again all covered in blood.

With the final move, his chest growling out, he angled his elbow and brought the glass just under the chin inside the brain fully.

The movements of the dead ceased—and Rick threw the glass away, soaked with blood, dirt and trash, his leg open cut, his palm nailed—crucified—and Rick threw his hands up in the air, and screamed at the woman, "Is this enough?" he asked, "Are you done?"

In answer, the woman nodded at her people, and a rope soon threw out down.

# # #

Amanda stared at the man down at the ground, bloodied, scarred, injured, but at his feet, his arms open in the air like a victor in an arena, which he was.

"Is this enough?" he screamed at the fucking garbage queen, "Are you done?"

And that moment he really looked like a…superman—a man who could do anything—anything at all as long as he believed in himself, and if Amanda hadn't been already insanely, crazily, out of her damn mind in love with him, she would've been completely gone in that moment.

But she'd been already gone—so she only wanted him back now—so she could hold him back in her arms.

She lifted her head as the damn bitch nodded at the other two, looking impressed as well, and there was that glint in the woman's eyes as well—Amanda's eyebrow's drew in. She pulled back at her feet and looked at the woman. The woman looked at her back, twisting her head aside, as the other two threw a rope below, and started pulling Rick up. "He got the bite," the garbage trash then stated calmly, looking at her.

For a second or so, Amanda thought to throw her down too—she really—really thought about it—but a second later, her eyes glaring she let out a hiss—a hiss clearly saying _fuck off_, and turned aside to move close to the edge—to Rick.

He was back at the top a few seconds later, and Amanda held the rope too as Rick hoisted himself on the ground where they sat knelt down—his hands were trembling with pain, his whole body soaked wet with perspiration and blood. Amanda lunged forward and held him, wrapping her arms around his torso—helping him as he pulled himself up on his knees… His hand—his uninjured hand came to her head for a second, holding her softly as he gave a brief kiss at the top of her head, and started standing up.

"Are you done now?" he asked again to the woman, who stood there watching the scene serenely, "Will you fight?"

"Guns—" the woman said, "Two for each one—" she demanded with the same way she spoke, taking a breath before each sentence, "Then we fight your fight."

Rick nodded.

"After, we get half of what's won."

Amanda let out a loud laughter, "And I want a pony," she said back.

"Half."

"You'll get a quarter," Rick said in return, and motioned with his head around, "And we'll get what need."

"Half."

"Quarter."

"Half," the woman repeated, "And take what you want."

"A quarter, we take what we want, and you get applesauce from us." Rick wobbled at his injured leg, walking to her side, "Say yes," he demanded back, his eyes still on the bitch.

"And a night—" the woman said back though, looking straight at him back in the eye, "two of us."

His hand—his good left hand held hers, "I'm married."

"I don't care."

Then Amanda lost it— "You fuc—" but Rick held her back, and looked at the fucking bitch coldly, "I do. No night. Say yes."

"She can come," the woman returned, "I don't mind."

"I _do_," Rick repeated, "Say yes."

The woman gave them a look, and her lips curved up, "Then another time."

Rick held her arm with his injured hand, "One time, this time. Now or at no time—" he told her flatly with that tone of his voice, and Amanda wanted to rip off something—gouge the bitch's eyes out…wanted to rip off her throat— "Say yes."

The woman looked at her blood-stained wrist, and smiled at him, "Yes—" she said then, nodding, "Go now. Bring my guns."

"What's your name?" Rick shouted behind her back.

"Jadis," she whispered back.

# # #

At their way back at Oceanside, she was furious, seething with a silent fury sitting beside him at the backseat as Daryl drove the car.

He rested his head back, and closed his eyes, every inch of his body was on fire now—pain drilling in him…he moved his left hand slowly at the seat—and touched her hand. She didn't run away, but she didn't make another move, either, Rick could tell behind his closed eyes.

He slightly nudged at her fingers then, tapping at the tip of her fingertips. Her fingers still stayed still for a second, then slowly—she started nudging his as well. Turning his head aside, still rested at the backseat, he opened his eyes and looked at her… Resting back, she was looking at him at the same way, too, her head turned aside, tossed back—then Rick slowly, tiredly, smiled at her—a little one as his hand clasped her fully—his fingers tightening over hers.

With a little sigh, she glided over the seat then, closed the inches between them, and rested her head over his shoulder.

In silence, Rick rested his head over hers in answer, and kissed her hair.

# # #

Later in night, Amanda wrapped his hand after they'd finished his leg. She—she was taking care of his husband, like he'd taken care of her, smoothly, with compassion and affection, all of her fuming annoyance in the car forgotten.

She knew it hadn't been his fault, she knew he had done nothing—the bitch, the goddamn bitch had thrown herself at him without any qualm—but she was really fucking hating it!

"What if she betrays us?" she asked him,

"She might—" Rick answered, his bowed head, checking her as she turned the bandage Cyndie had given them around his palm, "But we'll keep her in line."

In silence, she hummed, "Hmm—" but didn't say anything else, but kept dressing his wound. It was a nasty one, and it was going to leave a scar, like a stigmata in his hand, branded—singled out.

But he was singled out…in a way, and everyone with half of a brain picked it up at the first sight —getting intrigued—like how she had been—couldn't have helped herself… how Negan had been… how this garbage bitch… Jadis had been… the bitch had looked like she couldn't have helped herself, either.

_A night—only two of us…_

She pushed the words away off her mind, because she knew if she had thought of them, she would've gotten angry again. In the car, she had been fuming, and of course, without a word, he'd managed to get her calm down—as docile as a nice house cat, her quills all patted down.

She sighed out. This…Jadis looked like—she would be a trouble, but well, Amanda could always show the bitch her own bite, too. She wasn't a nice house pet, she was a—tigress. Right that moment, she decided the next time she saw the bitch, Shiva was going to be with her. Let see if the bitch would demand then that her husband spend a night with her!

When she was done with wrapping his hand, Rick threw himself back at the low cot with a loud, tired groan. He closed his eyes, his good leg slightly dropped over the edge, and gently caught her arm, and started pulling her down. "Come—" he murmured, his eyes still closed, scooting away to make her room, "…sleep."

She shook her head and nudged him at his side— "Nope—not yet—we're not done yet."

"I _am_—" he murmured.

"Pfft—your clothes stink, mister—" she told him, starting to pull out his blood and sweat soaked shirt off from his jeans, "Not gonna sleep like this."

He opened his eyes, and gave her a lopsided grin, "Hmm… you gon' take care of me now?"

"Damn right!" she told him with small smile, unbuttoning his shirt, "You're my baby, too."

He chuckled out, then caught her arm again, and puller her down against his chest— "Rick!" she cried out in protest, but it was a weak one as she was also giggling— "Rick!"

He kissed her soundly at the lips. "Go on, then, Mrs. Grimes" he told her then pulling back a second later and released her. "Take care of me," he said, throwing his hand backward in a mock of defeat as his eyes held hers captive, "Do take care of your husband, baby."

She smiled at him, and leaned down again, and gave him a kiss back in answer.

Always.

* * *

_I admit I was waiting to Amanda meet Jadis, he he. Poor girl, almost everyone they meet get a thing for Rick :) But I think Jadis and Rick would make an interesting couple after Season Eight, they really was having chemistry, in my opinion, even more than Michonne and Rick. So wanted to play that here, as well._

_That thing with children tales was something we discussed last week with my cousins on whatsapp-yes, we were that bored, stuck at home. The talk came up to the red hood hiding and we started talking, and at the end, the general consensus was that "Oh my god! They must've wanted her death!" I mean, really, if you think about it, why do you send a little girl in the woods all alone? LOL. I thought a character like Amanda might feel the same, as well. _


	32. Chapter 32

XXXI.

"Rick, stop glaring—" Amanda warned, kneeling down in front of the tiger as she unfastened the leash, "You're spooking her." He couldn't help, his gaze stuck at the wild animal, Rick continued to stare. With a contained, little smile, Amanda lifted her head up, her hand still on the leash, "You promised me, baby."

Damn him!

He really stopped making promises to her in the bed.

His father had once told him a man should've never made promises in the bed, and Rick had begun to understand what his father had meant better now. Last night she'd implored to him to unleash Shiva between their…festivities, giving him that look, her eyes wide open, moist, and so earnest as much as the expression on her face, deciphered.

Then of course, somehow Rick had said okay. _Okay, baby, okay…won't stop you. I promise._

God, he really stopped making promises to her in the bed.

But Shiva—the tiger as if she had also understood what was happening had moved to Amanda closer, almost urging Amanda to be faster, rubbing her nose against Amanda's neck the way Amanda had picked up too—waiting to be free.

Amanda laughed merrily, and it flashed through his wariness, and momentarily Rick thought what he could do to make her laugh that daily—just like he wanted her to be—Everything. He could do everything.

"You can't wait, either, huh?" she asked to the wild beast, laughing, "Yeah…I know…" she lifted her head again and this time smiled at him, "C'mon—pat her, too."

Slowly, Rick knelt down beside her, and started stroking the big cat's fur, "Ezekiel really trained her good. She listens to my word—" Amanda continued, "She's a good girl—" she turned to the tigress and unleashed her, "Aren't you, sweetheart, my good girl."

Free, Shiva gave them back a roar, craning her enormous, regal head upward, and Rick pulled back an inch on reflex, but Amanda stayed where she was. She stood up and snapped her fingers, "Come on, let's take a walk."

A walk in the woods with a tiger….

Rick sighed, bowing his head, but turned on his heels to follow them. Shiva was prowling calmly a few feet away in front of them, really listening to Amanda's commands, Rick observed with half of astonishment. He flicked his eyes at Amanda again, walking beside him with a satisfied expression at her face, "How did this happen?" he inquired, "How she listens to you?"

Amanda shrugged, "Frankly I don't know—" she answered, "She just does. She knows I want her to—be happy. We—talked when I found her in the cage. Told her she needed to eat. Told her that wasn't her. It couldn't be. I think she understood me." Her eyes found him too, "She trusts me, Rick, so she listens to me." She laughed, shaking her head, and took his hand. She brought it up to her lips and turning his palm, gave a brief kiss at the healing wound in his palm, "Sounds familiar, huh?" she asked, moving her eyes up to look at him.

The urge to drop her on the ground and climb on her was so strong again, a sharp breath escaped from him, his eyes growing heated, and catching him, Amanda shook her head. "Nope. Don't do it—don't seduce me. We need to talk."

"I _am_ seducing you?" Rick asked with a chuckle, pulling her closer to his side, "Woman, since the time we met, you did nothing but tried to seduce me."

Her mouth half open, she faltered her steps, looking at him. Sensing her, Shiva stopped too a few feet away at the front, and twisted her head back to look at them, waiting. "I did _not_!" Amanda cried out in protest lowly, keeping herself as quiet as possible in the deep woods.

But it was too late. A crunch of the branches told Rick they weren't alone. Rick took out his hatchet, alert as Amanda whispered at Shiva, moving toward the wild beast, "Shiva, down."

Rick saw two walkers coming toward them from the left side and moved quickly. He turned to Amanda, "Stay here. I got 'em."

"Be my guest."

Rick rolled his eyes half as he struck at the first walker directly at the brain, telling her in the meanwhile, "You were trying to seduce me—" he told her, breathing out deeply as his palm throbbed with pain, and he used his good leg to kick off the walker's torso to take off his hatchet, blood sputtering at his jacket's collar and his chin, "Popping those berries into your mouth—staring at me—telling me—" he continued, turning to the second one.

Standing beside Shiva, her arms crossed over her chest, she cut him off, "You know I just washed that jacket—" she said, her eyes narrowing, "You don't have to make such a mess every time you kill a walker, sweetheart—" she sneered dryly, and flashed at him a smile, one of the ones that used to make his teeth grit in annoyance, "We all already know how badass you are. And I wasn't trying to seduce you. I was testing you, remember?"

In answer, tossing at her a look, Rick swung the hatchet at the second walker, cutting off the head—blood squirting once again so much with pressure, it splashed over even at Amanda, making a few red specks at her cheek. She rolled her eyes exaggerated, snorting out, wiping her cheek, "Show off."

Rick grinned at her, and walked to her, hanging his hatchet back at his belt, "You were seducing me," he told her.

"Maybe." She shrugged then, giving him a grin back, "A little."

He walked even closer to her, "Then you started avoiding me after I bit you—" He shook his head, smiling at her further, "Mixed signals…"

She raised her hand, and pointed a finger at him, "Okay, I wasn't avoiding you," she said back firmly, but her smile still on her lips, "I was _regrouping_."

"Regrouping?"

"Yeah…" she said as they started walking again, "You caught me unawares. So, _naturally_, I called a tactical retreat—trying to see how my sums were adding up—where I was standing—"

He gave her a curious look, "Where were you standing?"

"Pfft—I don't know. I might've figured it out if you would've just left me alone."

He laughed at that, and took her hand this time, "Figure out you were falling in love with me?" he asked innocently.

She gave him a look back, "Rick—" she sighed out in exasperation.

He laughed again, low in his chest, and yanked her closer at his side, "I'm just messing up with you, baby."

"I _know_." She shook her head as his arm wrapped around her shoulder, "Okay. You had your fun, let's talk about work now," she stated, tossing at him a glance, "We need to move, Rick. It's almost a month now."

His expression getting stiffened, Rick nodded, but didn't say anything. He knew she had a point, almost a week had passed since they had come back from the Junkyard and brought the materials they'd taken from there to the Kingdom. They had started making body armors and Rick was beginning to think they needed to armor also the vehicles, but Amanda also had a point. The month was finishing, and in the following weeks Simon would return for next tribute. The time for real planting had come too, they were at the beginning of the spring and they needed to start planting now if they wanted to harvest in the summer. The Saviors had demolished all their crops and greens when they'd attacked the gates the last time, Rick had seen the burned, scorched earth. They'd started healing the soil, but they couldn't take another chance with that.

No. They needed to start rolling the ball. He had no idea what Simon was up to, what he was doing, was also preparing or was dealing with his own problems in the house. They had no intel from inside, they were completely blind. They'd been careful, though, always watching out scouts or spies—each time they set out at the road, they screened the roads before to make sure they weren't spied on.

His main fear that Simon would've somehow learned—seen Amanda with him. They really started this, but—but—"We need to go back to Junkyard for the last time, get the materials for the vehicles, and start," Amanda continued as they walked in the woods, "We need to get all who can't fight here, and you need to move your base to Hilltop."

They'd decided that Hilltop had a better tactical advantage given its location, at the top of the hill, having a clear view at every direction. Holding the heights was such a strong strategic point that it would give them a better advantage if things turned out worse and they ended up with a siege again. That time was going to be the last time they'd caught unprepared. Rick wasn't going to make the same mistake again. Leaving Alexandria was hard, but it was the surest way to keep it safe. If it was abandoned, there would be no need to threaten it, to destroy it. No. They would return later, when this was all done, they were going to go back. Until they needed to play smart and safe. "Then we need to go find this Laura," Amanda said for the last.

His face souring, Rick stayed in silence. "Rick—" Amanda started then again, "We talked about it before. We need someone inside," she continued, and she was right. They needed someone to tell them what was going on the Sanctuary, Rick just didn't like it, "and you _need to_ reach to the people there. If we just carry a big stick without the soft words, we'd be just another Negan."

_Speak softly and carry a big stick…_ Two days ago, Amanda had summed up the strategy that they needed to follow quoting the words, pointing out that if it'd worked for the President, then it'd surely work for them, too. Of course, she had been right again. Rick knew he could never convince those people to peace—to surrender if they didn't carry a big stick. Amanda had called it simply realpolitik, for Rick it was just the way of the things, and for that the world hadn't changed all that perhaps, but only gotten worse. And that was what he'd been trying to do, gathering up his forces, forging a big stick that would get everyone enough motivated to sit down and start talking for a truce.

For peace.

"I've been thinking," Amanda continued then as he turned her around to get them back to the camp, "Frankie said they got an intercom system. You can make a…tape," she mused out, spinning an idea as Rick flickered his eyes at her, "And if we somehow convince this Laura to transmit it through the intercom, then everyone at the factory might listen it."

That made him turned to her fully, "You want me to make a tape?" Rick asked.

She nodded, "You can hardly go at their doors and make a speech with a megaphone, Rick," she said, sighing out, "and if we tape it, it'd get circled around, people listening with their own stereos. Frankie said they got devices to listen music." She nodded again, "This's how we get your words spread out in secret, Rick. Once it starts, they won't be able to stop it."

"How we know this Laura would do that for us?" Rick questioned then the weakest point of her plan.

Amanda gave out a sigh at that, and shrugged, "Well, there's only one way to find out." She then paused a for second, and gave him a smile, "Besides, your birthday's coming. I really need to be at home by then." She smiled further, walking closer to him, and coiled her arms around his neck, "I promised you a cake, remember?"

Smiling back at her, Rick rested his forehead at hers, "Chocolate cake—" he reminded her.

"Hmm mm… I'm picking up berries from the forest," she said back, "Chocolate and berries. Sounds good?"

"Sounds so good I want to bite you again—" Rick whispered at her, and as his lips found hers, he caught with the corner of eyes Shiva watching them, her massive head lifted up, her tail flickering over Amanda's legs.

# # #

The next morning, they were gathered up at Hilltop again, after Rick had sent Daryl to call the leaders and lieutenants of each community, expect Jadis. Today after the meeting they would go back to the Junkyard to get more materials to reinforce the cars and tell her the rest of the plan.

Rick hadn't wanted the woman to know anything other than the fighting, so they were excluded, a fact Amanda felt rather glad. If they were an army, those Junkyard people would've only made…foot soldiers. No need to get them up in the command.

Even in the communities, there weren't all of people had come. From Alexandria, their council had come together with Michonne as she was still charged with its security, and from Kingdom, only Richard, Dianne and Jerry, the former guards of Ezekiel. From Oceanside, Cyndie and Beatrice had come, Natania opting not to take any partition in the fight. Frankie and Tanya had come with them, too, as they needed their intel. Maggie, Abraham and Sasha were already at Hilltop, helping the community to get back at its feet, and Ethan and another two from his own team were with them too.

The first outpost they needed to hit was the Satellite outpost, Rick know, before things turned to ugly, they needed to get Ethan's brother out of there.

"We need to start rolling the ball now—" Rick told them when everyone had been gathered inside the old mansion, "First we need to get everyone who can't fight to Oceanside, so we know they'll stay safe. Then everyone else will move to Hilltop. If anything happens, Hilltop's gonna be our standing point."

"We leave our compounds?" Richard asked.

"For a little while," Rick said, "We need to make sure we won't suffer any retaliation after we start hitting outposts. The Saviors are after the resources, and the towns are resources as well. If we aren't there, there'd be no reasons to harm our homes."

"They might start their own outposts," Spencer said back, and Rick held back a grimace. But this time he could hardly get angered with the last Monroe as the man had a fair point, too, "So we're not just supposed to leave our homes like this."

"It's to protect them," Rick snapped, turning to the younger man, "If they start an outpost or anything, we could take it back after the peace."

"Peace?" Spencer shook his head, "Now you talk about peace."

"Spencer—" Amanda cut in, "This isn't a time for that—" She then turned to all of them, "What we're doing here isn't preparing for war," she told them, "This isn't a zero-sum game, where only one side could win and the other lose—" She shook her head, "No. We have to convince both sides could win."

"How?" Richard said flatly.

"Well, we'll speak softly and will carry a big stick," Rick summarized the strategy for them, too, "And will convince them for a truce. So, everyone wins."

"And Simon?" Cyndie asked with a frown, "We said say to fight because of him. If you want to make truce with him, you'll make it without Oceanside. We make no truce with that monster."

Here they started— "And his lieutenants—" Jerry said, too, when Cyndie had finished, "They—they caused us too many hurts over the years. We can't make truce."

Maggie nodded as well, "They're right. We need to fight. We need to kill—"

Rick cut them off, "Three hundred and fifty-four people!" he said in a rasped hiss, "You want us to kill of them—" he asked back, echoing the same question Amanda had asked him before, "We'll give them an option. Simon—yes, you're right," he continued, "There can be no truce with him, too much water under bridge, and he knows that, too, but others—but if others decide to surrender, we need to accept it. We can't make peace if we keep killing them."

"So, we'll accept Arat into our folds?" Richard asked coldly, "Share meals and drinks with her?"

"I'm not asking you to share meals and drinks—" Rick answered back with the same coldness, "I'm asking to stop trying to kill each other."

"She _already_ killed us!"

Amanda shook her head, "She _executed_ an order," she said, "And the one who gave that order is already dead. I'm sorry—this's a hard pill to swallow, but if we keep going on like this, we'd end up like a snake eating its own tail—we have to break the circle."

_Break the wheel,_ Rick's words echoed in her mind, she looked at them, "I know you all suffered at their hands. I did, too. We all did. But we need to find a way to look over our own—suffering but think about the big picture—" God, she would have never thought she would've uttered those words, the big picture—the greater good, but it was the truth as well. This—this was bigger than their own personal quarrels and vengeance. "As the leaders of our communities, we owe this to our people."

"How?" Father Gabriel who was silently listening to their words spoke then, "How we convince them for truce then?"

"We have a plan," Rick said, and talked to them for half an hour, before he nodded, "Get ready. We start in three days."

# # #

After the meeting was finished, they started to prepare for Junkyard with Richard and his group to get the materials for the cars.

Amanda stood there with Beth beside Shiva as Amanda had brought her little cat to make sure Richard and others see how good she was doing, Rick, even though reluctant, had let her. Beth was still standing a few feet away from her as she held her leash. She fucking hated it, but everyone grew so afraid of the wild animal without the last, she had had to put it when they came to the Hilltop. Shiva didn't look she minded it all that much, as if she also understood, but Amanda really fucking hated it.

"We leave now?" she asked to Rick, tying Shiva's leash at the back of the pick-up Rick drove, as he talked to Tobin and Father Gabriel for the last to organize the evacuation of Alexandria, "It's getting late. We need to turn back before the sunset."

Rick nodded at her, leaving Tobin and the pastor. He opened the driver's door of the pick-up as Amanda slipped into the passenger seat and held her stomach with her hands after she buckled her belt. "They'll bring Judith and others tomorrow," he told her.

Her face beamed, "Really?" she asked breathless.

"Yes, I want them to the camp before we start anything."

Amanda nodded, "Yes. They shouldn't stay there."

Daryl moved out first with his bike, Beth at his back, and Rick followed them out. Shiva, at the back, roared loudly with the motor, and Amanda laughed. "She's getting competitive."

Rick laughed faintly, shaking his head, "I wonder from who she gets it—" She rolled her eyes again, throwing her feet off the dashboard, and opened up a salted cracker's package, still one of her favorite food she could stomach, "You brought her with you just to show her to Jadis, didn't you?" he asked suddenly, skipping his look from the road at her.

Her eyes fixated ahead, Amanda took a cracker and threw it in her mouth, her chin raised up with a smile, "No comment."

Before the sunset, they started going through Junkyard again to gather the last pick-up, Shiva walking around unleashed. Yeah, she'd also left her unleashed. "Amanda—showing off is done," Rick told her when they were alone, "Put her back in leash."

She shook her head, climbing over a heap of the trash at the end of the Junkyard, the last part they hadn't still covered up yet. "No. She's fine," she said, pushing herself to the peak, "Let her wander—she was leashed today a lot. Besides—" She suddenly stopped at the words, her eyes caught a scene at the far end of the Junkyard ground, "Hey—come here—" she called back at Rick, "You gotta see this."

"What's it?" Rick asked quickly, running up towards her at the unbalanced heaps.

She shook her head. He needed to see it. She couldn't explain. He—he needed to see it. Before her, below down her lay a small meadow, the backyard of the Junkyard possible, half brown half green with a few scattered metal stuff rusting off, but they weren't the reason why Amanda had called out Rick.

No. What had caught her attention was that in the middle of the opening there was a circle of flattened grass—a circle that had been made by big stones, and there was a big white H painted down in the middle.

She stared at it—realizing what was it as Rick stood beside her, looking at it. "Well, I guess I got a tiger, and she got a helicopter," Amanda said after a while as they both continue to look at it.

# # #

At the end, they decided not to tell anyone anything, but continued to play dumb. "Do you think we did the right thing?" Amanda asked back in their cabin in the night after they'd returned from the Junkyard, playing with the recorder that Rick was going to record his—tape.

He shook his head, "I don't know," and he confessed, "Better if we keep this simple for now. Whatever it's, it's already happened. She doesn't know where we live."

"That didn't work well the last time—" she muttered out, and snapping his head at her, Rick gave her a look. "I know we—we went to Hilltop first, but a helicopter—" she said, "If—"

Rick cut him off, "It just means they still might have fuel to keep it operational," he said back, and Amanda wondered if he believed the words, or just was trying to placate her, "Even we had a tank of fuel a few weeks before," he reminded her.

She gave a half nod, "I know but—that symbol—like a banner—it means something, Rick." Turning away from her, he stayed in silence, unbolting his holster, and dropped his Colt Python on the chair beside the door. "If—if they got some sort of technology—you know—" she said then, "The babies—" Rick turned and gave her a full look now, and she stopped.

Rick didn't like talking about it, and she understood it was the wrong time, as well. Amanda knew he still had the same fears she had gotten so scared when she had first heard she was expecting twins, and even though she pretended her fears still weren't there each day she aged in her pregnancy, that prospect was growing closer and closer.

During the weeks she'd passed at Oceanside, most of the times she'd pushed back the thoughts whenever her old fears had caught her, never letting them to seize her again. She couldn't deal with them—not yet… And that feeling—the feel of life stirring in her insides…the bursting energy, her libido…her feelings… everything was so heightened, it was…hard to stay focus on them, so much easier snugging in Rick's arms and…be happy, truly…happy. She didn't want to think how things could go bad now, didn't want to over analyze everything, worrying... She wanted to get back at home, make finger painting with Judith and Carl, bake his birthday cake to Rick. She didn't want to think of it. But whether she wanted or not, it was still there, too, the reality…how the Sanctuary was a part of their reality, too, a fact they couldn't run away or close their eyes.

In five months, most probably in less than five months she was going to give birth to twins. And everything might go well without a problem, a miracle itself—but what if…what if…

She took a shaking breath, she shook her head a little, pushing away the thought, and tapped at the record. Not now, she told herself. Not now. They needed to deal with this. They couldn't afford to get distracted.

And everything was going to be fine. They—they had overcome so many things. They could manage this, as well. She—she was going to have her babies. Nothing would happen. They would be fine. Together. Back at their home. The family she'd always wanted…always had dreamed.

She swallowed through her tight throat, and slipping an old-fashioned cassette into the recorder's deck, she pushed it down, and looked at Rick. "It's ready," she told him.

Walking to him, Rick took the mike of the recorder from her, and gestured at her with tilt of his head. As Amanda pushed the two keys together, the tape started recording. Rick brought up the mike closer to his lips and started making his speech.

After he was finished, Amanda rewind the tape, and they started listening it, his voice live and in stereo, still commanding with that timber in his tone, "_If you're listening to this, I know you were told that I'm a monster, a man who wants to take what's yours from you—an enemy who wants to kill you,_" it continued after a brief pause, "_But I'm not. My only real enemy is the dead, and only the dead, and those who are worse than the dead. Those who exploit weaknesses, those who use fear, those who use the brute force to make you kneel." _

Another brief pause before his voice turned to absolute, having all the strengthen, resolution, and unyielding willpower in him as he announced, _"This's Rick Grimes speaking, and I'm here to offer you another path, another world._" Another pause, "_A world that is ours by right. A better world._"

* * *

_All righty, here Rick making another speech. I'm mixing his speeches from the beginning and end of the season 8, but I need to find to put the whole speech into the narrative. I usually only use Rick or Amanda's point of view, only a few Beth scattered around, and Daryl once, and they aren't in the Sanctuary, either. Pftt. Anyway, I'll think of something. I just like the idea of Rick's giving a speech at all Sanctuary through the intercom, his voice live and in stereo. If you watched 13 Reasons Why, you might understand what I'm saying._

_"Speak soft, and carry a big stick" is the famous quote from the President Theodore Roosevelt, which was also his foreign policy, and it still continues to be USA's policy, in my opinion, most of the times. And, again, if I have to be frank, it's usually the best viable option dealing with a conflict for a non-sum zero game solution. As Amanda is also supposed to be a good tactician and strategist, she needs to think like one. As co-leaders, Amanda lays out the strategy, and Rick finds ways to execute it...and they end up with the world domination, LOL. Either way, it's great fun for me to write them like this, Amanda still insisting that she hadn't been avoiding him :)_

_And, like always, stay safe and stay at home, and don't forget to review! It really motivates me a lot.(I think I finished a month now in the social isolation at home. SUCKS) Love you bunches. _


	33. Chapter 33

**Hey. Just put up a poll on my profile. If you're interested which story you'd like me to write after A Better World, please vote! Thanks.**

XXXII.

The next morning, Judith and Carl arrived at Oceanside with the rest of the people who wouldn't fight, and Amanda felt much better after taking her baby angel in her arms.

The rest still wasn't going so well. "This is _not_ what we agreed," Cyndie said once again when they were in the community hall, "You promised us revenge." Her voice was curt and stern as much as her face as she stood in front of them with Beatrice, "Not peace but revenge."

Amanda realized then this wasn't really going to be easy. She could understand, she might've felt the same if the Saviors had killed Rick and every other men—but they—they had to stop, had to find a common ground before things turned even uglier, they'd already lost too much. They already had too much to deal with it. Rick had been right. The real enemy was there—the dead. It was always there, didn't leave you alone even for a little stroll in the woods, always a breath away from you, and she was going to have a baby in five months. She didn't want to try to give a birth in a bloodshed—in a power struggle. The Saviors had hurt everyone, she still got her scars, she would always carry them, but they had to move on—they didn't have the luxury of carrying grudges forever anymore.

"We don't have the luxury of carrying grudges forever anymore," Amanda cut in between, "We need to make peace."

And they could only make peace with enemies, that was the whole point of the concept of _peace_. Scarce resources had been always the main reason for any conflict between people, whether it was a clash between a few people, and all-out-war like the two world wars, dividing people in as us vs them. "Remember the civil war—when our ancestors, when the Northern Army of Virginia had surrendered, they hadn't gotten slaughtered."

"And we need to win first for that," Rick continued, walking to the women, "We need _you_," he clarified specifically, "And there will be no peace with Simon, I promised you that. We don't trust him, and he doesn't trust us. You'll get your revenge."

Beatrice shook her head, "Simon wasn't the only one. He didn't kill my husband."

"Please—" Amanda cut in again, "Please, be reasonable. We already talked about it. Negan's inner circle will get what they deserve, but they will refuse to surrender if they think we'd kill all of them afterward."

Cyndie still shook her head, "We fight or not. We die or they die. There's no comprise," she said with a finality, "If that's what you want, you'll fight without Oceanside." She paused to give both of them a look, "Your people can still stay, we'll give them refugee, but don't ask anything else from us."

With that, both women left the hall.

Amanda turned to Rick as he stared at their retreating backs as they vanished behind the door and kicked the low seat at the corner in anger. "Rick—" Amanda lunged forward and held his arm, "Rick, stop—" she pulled him back, his leg was still wounded, "You'll hurt yourself further."

And it was the last thing they needed now. "We still have Kingdom and Hilltop. Richard said they will fight, and Maggie will listen to us even if she doesn't like it. And with the garbage bitch, our numbers will still be enough."

Rick shook his head, "_Barely_ enough—" Rick corrected her, "We need them. The Sanctuary would never risk a surrender without a big stick, you know that."

And yes, she did, but still shook her head, "We need to trust the people inside," she said back, "If they knew there's another path, they would—"

"And why they would trust me, Amanda—?" he inquired then, turning to her fully, "I'm just a man talking softly at a tape—" He walked closer to her, and bowing his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers in his usual habit, "If I can't even convince my allies, how I am going to convince my enemies?" he muttered out in a low voice.

Amanda narrowed her eyes as Rick lifted his head, and what she saw inside his eyes—his clear blue eyes as hard as gemstones… "Rick—" Amanda started, but he cut her off, shaking his head.

"Without a big stick, I'm just a man who's yammering about pipe dreams, Amanda," he remarked placidly before he turned to march out of the hall.

# # #

On their own, his feet brought him to the coast. He sat down on the dry sand, his hands resting over his knees, staring ahead at the sea…the vastness of it… Perhaps they would just take a boat and find themselves a remote island, away from all people—and then got stranded. Another pipe dream…where they could all live happily ever after.

Amanda's words, her strategies were all good, but executions of them weren't that easy, especially when he needed to keep his people together when each of them had their own struggles and pain, after suffering at the hand of the Saviors.

A part of him still wanted to burn the whole damn place to the ground for what they'd done to them—Glenn's death and Amanda's scars, the first night he'd passed holding Amanda in his arms was still in his arms, thinking of ways to kill each of them—in the most possible horrible ways… He wanted peace, he wanted a better world—for Amanda, for his children, for his people… He just didn't how.

He was just a man. He wasn't a savior, he wasn't a hero, and he wasn't most definitely Cesare, either. He'd never wanted to be. His hand found a little pebble beside his feet, and aimlessly he took it and threw it off in the sea. Perhaps he was just a man who had to learn not to give promises he couldn't keep.

Amanda sat down beside him a while after silently, finding him at the shore. "Rick—I thought we stopped doing this—" she broke the silence a few minutes later, "Running away from each other."

He swallowed lowly, and threw another pebble away, "Wanted to think—" Rick said.

"Wanted to brood, you mean—" she sighed out, picking up a pebble herself too and threw it away, "Rick—"

Turning his head to her, he cut her off, "I need to finish this, Amanda—"

"I know—"

"You're here for three weeks as I kept wandering around. I want you back—" he continued, "At your home."

"Rick—"

"I need Oceanside," he said, "I can't let this go on anymore."

She let out a sigh. "Rick—"

He stood up, "I can't." He stared at the vast waters as his mind made up. He couldn't let go on like this. He wanted her back. He _needed_ her back. Where she belonged. He'd never been a hero, never a savior, never a messiah. No. Rick was only a man who wanted to keep his family safe.

# # #

"You want to fight," he told Cyndie, "We'll fight."

"No peace?" the woman asked.

Rick shook his head, "We fight to the end," he answered as Amanda watched him warily, "We take outposts first as we discussed then make a full charge at Sanctuary. The workers—we'll forgive afterwards," He was still not going to condemn a mass murder, "but the rest—we kill."

"All of them?" the young woman asked.

"Each of them," Rick answered.

# # #

Later in the night, Amanda stared at the recorder at the table, holding up Judith in her arms. Rick walked into the cabin, his expression still the same, cut off stone, and Amanda walked to the cot they had found for Judith.

"Frankie said we should try first an office plaza close to the downtown," he started retelling his last meeting as she settled down Judith in the cot. "She says it's the best place to start, an old insurance office, and might have a good cache of armory."

Straightening, she turned to him, "So we do it?" She asked, her eyes flickering at the tape again. Even if Rick caught her on it, he didn't react. But only nodded back.

"Daryl left for the Kingdom. We'll move tomorrow night."

She gave out a sigh, "If you do this, if you attack without talking to them first, it's an act of war. All-out-war. There'll be no going back form that. You're crossing the Rubicon."

"I know—" he said, "But I can't take the risk," he answered, "Not when you're like this."

"We'll lose people," she told him then.

"It's war—" he said back, and swallowed, "I want—I need to know… If something happens tomorrow—"

She cut him off, turning away to look at Judith, "No!"

He walked to her, and turned her head, holding her chin, "You have to keep going," he said in a low voice as her eyes watered, "You have to. For our children. You have to." He held her cheek, his eyes still on hers, "Promise me."

"Rick…"

"Amanda, promise me," he demanded.

She nodded then, "I promise."

As she settled in his embrace, spooning her from behind, she wondered if Rick was sleeping in the silence as Amanda kept looking at the recorder at the table.

# # #

The next day Rick kept going on preparing as Amanda thought and thought and thought… walking at the shore. Beth found her too, and in silence they walked together, staring at the sea. Later, she took back Judith from Carl. "I'm going with Dad," the teenager told her, "I'm going to fight."

Amanda nodded, and kissed him at his hair, "Be careful," she said back, "And protect your dad."

Carl nodded in seriousness. "I will."

She smiled, "I still haven't told him you want to move out."

Carl smiled her back, "It's okay. You can tell him when you're back."

Towards the evening, she put Judith into sleep as Rick came to see her, "We move out in twenty—" he told her, "I'll need to fall back to Hilltop after."

She nodded. They were going to be separated once again. "I'll come back as soon as things will settle down."

In silence, she nodded again, and held back her tears. He moved to her closer and pulled her at himself. "Baby—" he breathed out in her ear, his hand holding the back of her neck, "Baby—I need to do this. I—I need to get you back."

"I know," she whispered back at him, "I know…"

She knew… He was just a man doing his best. Giving her another kiss, Rick left.

Amanda thought if that was how women had used to feel before, sending their husbands off to war, off to conquer the world or perhaps off to their deaths.

Death.

She held her stomach, her babies—stirring in her, pieces of him and her eyes moved to the cot, and she looked at Judith… and her eyes flicked at the recorder again… She walked to it, and pressed on the play button, and his voice filled in the room.

"_If you're listening to this, I know you were told that I'm a monster—" _the record started, and it felt like a slap at her face. Hastily, she stopped it, letting out a laborious breath and left the cabin quickly to find Beth.

She found Denise on the way and asked the woman to take care of Judith as she found Beth in front of the cabin she shared with Daryl.

Amanda looked at her friend, "Beth—we can't let it—" she whispered, "We have to do something."

# # #

"This Laura—" Amanda asked the women who stood in front of her, "Can you make us talk with her?"

Frankie and Tanya looked at her with widened eyes. "I—I thought they're doing it in their own ways," Frankie said after a second.

Amanda shook her head, "They do," she encountered, "So we will—" she said, "Can we find a way in?"

Frankie nodded, "She's running an outpost in the chemical plant. Gavin is the real ruler, but they've got three different compounds. Laura's the one who is the closer to the woods. I stayed there for a few weeks. If—if there's a distraction or something, I can find a way to go in from the woods."

Amanda nodded. "We take a few Molotov from the armory," she said, "Mark, Amber, and Nicole come with us," she explained her plan, "They create a distraction with Tanya, and we go in and find her."

Tanya shook her head, "Do we really do this?" the dark brunette asked, "This's dangerous."

"Every breath we take is dangerous," Beth said before Amanda could reply, "We need to do this."

Frankie turned to Amanda then, "You're pregnant—" she said, giving her a look, "You still want to do this."

"I know it's stupid—" Amanda said then, "I know—I know I should wait. I just—can't."

She couldn't. Rick did what he thought he had to, and Amanda had to do what she thought she had to. She knew Rick was going to have her hide—but she had to believe… She didn't know what she was supposed to believe—she had never known, but she felt she had to believe…in…perhaps in them.

They had had overcome so many things. So many times. They could do this too. They had to.

# # #

It was dark, the crescent moon high in the sky.

Through his bino, Rick watched the courtyard of the office plaza.

The building was a seven stories tall horizontal complex, massive and long, going on both directions, with a separate parking lot, closed garage, courtyard and he could see even an old Starbucks at the left side from where he could see the infamous green mermaid hanging up. The watches were at their posts at each side, holding the grounds.

He counted two at each direction, heavy machine guns, and lowering the bino, he turned to his own people. He led a force of forty, armed and eager to fight. Richard and Cyndie had their own people as Maggie, Abraham, Sasha led Hilltop's few fighters as Michonne had the Alexandrians. "We do it fast. We know the grounds little. Frankie gave us where the armory could be, but we have to search for it. We go in in stealth, then we fan out. Daryl and I will search for the armory, then we take the outpost."

They all nodded.

His fingers tapping on the butt of his MP5A2 sub-machine gun, Rick nodded back. "Let's do it."

# # #

It took half of an hour to arrive to the chemical plant in the woods. As they exited the cars, Amanda turned to Mark, "You throw the Molotovs and return immediately. Don't stay back," she ordered, but Tanya cut her off.

"How will you return?"

"We'll find another vehicle inside. You can't wait around here. It's too dangerous—" she answered, "Rick might have already started his assault. They must've heard it. You have to go back."

Tanya looked at her friend in doubts, but Frankie nodded. "We'll return. They got us out before." She paused, her eyes flickering between Amanda and Beth, "I—trust them."

Amanda slipped her hand into her pocket and felt the little tape inside and prayed for they were doing the right thing. She took her hand out and they found her stomach, and she closed her eyes, craning her head up…

_Please…please… I'm doing this for them… for my babies… For all babies… They deserve better than this. Please._

# # #

As the gunshots echoed in the air, the sirens screeched in the dark accompanying them, averting the compound they were under attack.

Daryl close at his six, Rick took the point, firing instantly as they moved in the complex. The gunshots started as the same time they put the first step inside the complex. Inside the complex corridors were narrow, lined up with doors at each side, walls painted in a light blue white, still clean, floors covered with red carpet. It swallowed the sounds of their footsteps, but the gunshots were also doing the same. Rick took a corner as Daryl took the other, and they started firing.

His body already wet with perspiration, his denim shirt clung on his chest and back, and tense with adrenaline and anticipation, and the fear of fight… _You're crossing the Rubicon,_ her voice ringed in the back of his mind, too, and Rick closed off his mind. He was doing what he had to.

With a quick step, he turned aside at the corner, half of his body still plastered at the wall, and started emptying the magazine of MP5A2.

# # #

The fires lighted in the heart of the darkness, and they started running toward the fences, as fast as they could, their back bent down. When they closed, Beth slipped off her backpack and took out the bolt cutter she'd pack inside and started cutting off the fences for a way out.

The shouts started coming from their left side where everything was still painted red, and sirens running off, from according to Frankie, Gavin, the outpost's real leader's headquarters. They needed to get Laura alone as much as possible.

They needed to be quick. They needed to find her.

Frankie was cool.

Cooler than Amanda had expected her to be for such an assault, then she understood the woman really wanted to do this. Really wanted peace. Perhaps she was even thinking of returning the Sanctuary—when there would be no Negan or Simon to dictate their wishes on them. They had a system over there, she recalled how their guards had wanted to stay with her when Beth had wanted them to go with her, how silent they had stayed when Rick had made his offer.

Yes, perhaps they really needed people like Frankie back at Sanctuary too, after when this was all done, when they had peace…

Peace.

Peace, she muttered inside, _peace_… It felt like a prayer as well.

She held her stomach with one hand as with the other she held her Glock 19, the metal cold and unflinching in her grip whereas her stomach felt warm under her jacket on her skin.

Warm, beating, full of life.

Her fingers tightening over her stomach, Amanda ran faster.

# # #

The top levels of the building were almost empty as Rick checked the dark corridors as wary as possible. Daryl was still at his six, covering his back, but he decided to split up as gunshots started getting heavy from outside. Turning aside to the hunter, he gestured with his head. "You go check that part," he told him, "I cover this one. We radio each other if we find out something."

Daryl nodded silently and stalked out in the opposite direction.

Outside, all hell had broken loose, gunshots still ringing in the air, but inside was as silent as a grave.

His jaw squared and his finger on the trigger tightened at his choice word as he slowly covered the corridor, one step over another on a prowl, checking out each door.

The armory should be somewhere around here. There must still be some guards protecting it, but Rick also knew almost everyone was outside now, fighting off in the clash. He checked another door and entered into an open office, flipping the gun from one side to the other. It was another open office but this time the workstations had been cleared off along the wall as if to clear off more space. His back close to the wall, Rick slowly walked aside toward the first door, and taking off his hand away from the machine gun, he opened it to reveal—a bedroom.

Clean—was the first thing popped out of his mind as he saw it. One small wardrobe across a bed, the curtains drawn down over the window. Even the bed was semi-made, a blanket put over it to close it. He must've have arrived the living quarters of the outpost, which would explain the emptiness as the outpost was fighting outside or the lower floors.

Behind the table, there was another door. Rick started walking to there and raised his arm to open the second door but before he could react, something lunged at him from aside and knocked him out to the ground, kicking him in the meantime, as just at his injured leg.

Rick howled with pain, going down, then lifted the sub-machine gun, the knee of his good leg supported on the floor and started shooting at him twisting aside. The man threw himself aside as Rick raked the wall with the gunfire.

"NOO!" the man screamed off, his voice bellowing in the empty office, and assaulted at Rick with a maddening speed as Rick pulled the trigger again but the magazine had emptied. Before he could change into his spare or draw out his Colt from his hip, the man tackled him down on the ground.

# # #

"Hide the guns—" Amanda ordered as they slipped in the compound, hiding in a corner, and both Frankie and Beth looked at her.

"What?" Beth whispered out, "But—"

Amanda shook her head, "No. Remember how you got us out of Sanctuary. There women—one of sick—running in the corridor in panic. This's a big outpost. Have people. If we run in the corridors in panic, running _away_ from the fires, they'd leave us alone. You need to act like scared out of your minds."

"Do you think it'd work?" Frankie asked.

Amanda shook her head, "We can't go all way in fighting. We have to play smart."

Frankie gave her a look, "What were you before?" the redhead woman questioned.

"Knew a lot of con-artists—" Amanda answered with a shrug and let out a deep breath. "Put away the guns."

They followed her order, and Amanda left the corner, and holding the wall beside her with one hand, she dropped into the act. She sagged her shoulders in, forcing her eyes water, running in a panic state and caught with the corner of her eyes, Frankie and Beth mimicking her gestures.

Their first company appeared out of the next corner, and before they could even see them, Amanda turned aside toward the door, and started screaming with cries—

"Oh my god! Oh my god—" Amanda wailed out, dropping over knees on the floor, crying loudly, still hiding her face at the wall, her eyes dry even though the sounds she made, "They're—they're shooting everywhere…"

One of the men with a sub-machine gun rushed toward her as Beth held her from other side as the younger woman hid her face along her neck too, "Which way?" the man demanding, and Amanda still weeping loudly, pointing at the hall they'd come back, leading them away from them.

The men without another glance to them started running away, as Amanda kept crying loudly, then stopped as soon as they vanished off around the corner. Quickly, she pulled back on her feet, pulling back up the other women two.

"Wow—" Frankie breathed out, "That was the coolest shit I've ever seen!"

"People most of the times only see what they want to see—" Amanda told her, turning to Beth, "We need to go."

"What were you really?" the redhead asked her again, as they started running again in the empty corridor, "A con artist?"

Amanda let out a sigh. "No. The opposite. I was the cop," she said, "C'mon, hurry up."

# # #

As they wrestled, there was one thing in his mind. "Where're the guns?" Rick rasped out from the man's behind, his back covered with the wall, taking strengthen, his arm coiled around the man's neck tightly in a deadly choke, trying to cut off his air supply.

But the man was fighting—fighting with his everything. The man's elbow hit at his side, and pain erupted in him, his grip lessening. Using the moment, the man threw his head backward, hitting at his forehead.

Rick groaned out loudly, blood pouring over his eyebrows through a split. The man broke out of his grip. "You're—you're Rick Grimes, aren't you?" the man asked, eyeing his Colt down on the ground, as if it was a part of his identity and perhaps it was, "We heard about you. You think yourself better than us, don't you?" he asked as Rick's eyes flickered at the wall beside him, and saw a blot two inches thick erecting out of the wall when the office had been cleared off away.

Rick didn't answer, "You're not—" the man continued, "We're all assholes here," he said, before lunging at Rick again.

Catching him before he hit him, Rick twirled the man around, and threw the man at the wall against the thick bolt with all his force.

The bolt entered the man, nailing him at the wall, and Rick dropped on the ground, heaving deeply, his head bowed.

The man had been right. They were all assholes here. But at least Rick had lessened a notch down from the chart.

They needed to go back—but they couldn't go back. Can't go back, bob—another asshole's words echoed in his mind as Rick pushed up back at his feet, another asshole who had crossed the Rubicon, and couldn't have gone back.

His leg throbbing, Rick walked to the door the man had fought and died to protect, and opened it…

…And he stared…

# # #

They found Laura before she left her quarters.

Frankie acted quickly, going in front of them as the woman drew out her gun. "Laura, please, stop. Listen. We came to talk to you."

"What do you want?" the woman spat, "I heard you escaped—with that woman—"

"With me—" Amanda took a step forward and revealed herself, "I'm Amanda, I killed Negan," she said, "I know you didn't like Negan. I know you don't like Simon, either. And I'm here because I thought we could make a difference."

The woman stared at her in silence, her gun still raised high. "I'm pregnant," Amanda told her then, waving at her stomach, "Pregnant with twins, and I still came risking everything because I believe it's worth it. Please. Just listen—" She slowly lowered her hand, "I'm going to take something out of my pocket. Please. A tape. Please, listen to it." She fished out the tape and extended it to her, "That's all I'm asking. Listen to it." She let out a breath, "Make people hear about it, make them know. I know you think there's no other way, but that's not true. I thought myself like that once. But there was. There was another way."

She took a step closer to the woman, still holding the tape, "Please."

Hesitantly, an inch by an inch, the woman raised her hand and took it.

# # #

…A baby room…instead of finding the armory, he found a baby room—a cot… Gracie...he read the name over the wall above the cot.

Gracie...

The treasure the man had fought and died for… Gracie and a baby room walls were raked with bullet holes… by his own gunfire…

His heart frozen in his chest, Rick approached to the cot slowly, every step taking eons…afraid to see what he had done…

# # #

As they ran away in the corridors from the compound, Rick's voice suddenly started coming out of the speakers at the wall, echoing in the air all over the screams and gunfire… "_If you're listening to this," _it started, and Amanda almost started crying as running…

_# # #_

Holding the railing, he bowed his head, looking at the cot, and—

The floor raised to his knees or he'd fallen, he didn't know… He was on his knees—looking at the tiny body—folded in a blanket—

No.

# # #

"_I know you were told that I'm a monster, a man who wants to take what's yours from you—an enemy who wants to kill you. But I'm not. My only real enemy is the dead, and only the dead."_

# # #

He didn't know how long he stayed like that…looking at the baby girl between the railings as she stared at the ceiling-her blue eyes opened wide as her hand twirled in the air slowly, as if to call out her dad-like Judith had used to do-her daddy Rick had just killed with his own hands.

He twisted his head and his eyes caught his broken reflection over the broken mirror at the wall—broken with his gunfire with everything else… Broken like everything else…

He looked at the walls just above the cot-raked with bullet-a few inches down and the baby-the baby...

Holding the cot's railing, he pulled himself up at his feet, and his hands trembling, he took out the baby from the cot.

He bowed his head, his lips brushing over her soft baby hair, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he muttered, his eyes still on his broken reflection over the mirror.

# # #

They left the compound, Rick's voice still in her ears…

_This's Rick Grimes speaking, and I'm here to offer you another path, another world. A world that is ours by right. A better world…_

* * *

_All right, I'm gonna admit that at first I wasn't going to let Gracie alive, but she was going to end up death by Rick's gunfire, but at the end I just couldn't do it. I wrote all the scenes, in fact, Gracie was turning and Rick was stabbing her in the head crying, and Amanda and Rick were going to bury her at the shore too, but I just couldn't do it and let her live like the show did at Monster. _

_This chapter was a real struggle for me. Don't hesitate to tell what you think._


	34. Chapter 34

XXXIII.

It was before the dawn Amanda heard the sounds from outside. She was awake, laying in the bed with Judith, her hand gently touching at her baby angel stomach to give her courage. There was no sleep was for tonight, of course, not when Rick was outside there, fighting. But at least she wasn't alone. She turned on her side further toward Judith and caressed her soft hair, feeling emotions awakening in her again, her eyes watering.

She had done what she could've done. She had tried. They'd returned from the chemical plant a few hours ago, Amanda directly going to Judith again and had gone to the bed with the baby. She'd told Laura to come to Hilltop to find them if the woman believed there was another way before they'd left. They'd heard Rick's voice through the speakers. The woman had done it. The ball had started running. The rest they would see. She figured at the morning she was going to have to leave for the old mansion and inform Rick. She had no idea what he was going to say once he learned, how much he was going to be furious because how much she'd risked it, but she had done what she had had to.

Her hand caressed Judith's hair again as her other hand touched at her stomach. No. Her children had to live better than they had had to, have better than them. They owed it to them. The clamor came from outside as she caressed Judith's hair, her fingers still at her stomach. Her head snapped up, she listened to the outside and heard the shouts. She jolted up at her feet as Beth did the same across from her.

When they'd come back, they'd decided to stay in the same cabin as they both hadn't wanted to stay alone when the men they loved out there, and Beth had made herself a bedroll at the floor across the cot where Amanda had lay down with Judith.

"What's that?" Beth asked, turning aside as Amanda grabbed her gun with the holster from the nightstand beside the low bed, and clinched it over her hips, the sounds from outside grew louder, having much more of a clamor.

She shook her head, "I don't know—" Bending down, she started wearing her boots quickly, both Beth and see without another word had gone to bed with their clothes last night on an unspoken understand, only taking off their boots. They started doing the same as well after tucking her own gun. Amanda opened the door to understand what was happening, to see if she needed to take Judith along or they could leave her baby in the cabin. She took a few steps from the door, into the little pathway out the main street in front of their cabin, her eyes wandering around to search the perimeters.

To her left side, she could see the community hall and in front of there was a crowd gathered. She narrowed her eyes, squinting, then over the distance she picked up Rick's profile in the middle of it, standing beside Carl and Daryl.

From behind, Beth walked to her, "Is that them?" the younger woman asked, a frown in her voice, "Why did they return here?"

And Amanda felt it. Something had happened. They were supposed to fall back to Hilltop after the assault. But they hadn't, so something must've happened.

She started walking to the crowd quickly, Beth following her. Whatever had happened, it was okay, she told herself. Rick had come back. Carl had come back. Daryl had come back. Perhaps it was bad enough that they had chosen to return, but it was also okay. They'd come back.

But—

Her pace fastened, she almost started running, and getting closer, her eyes caught Rick better—and saw a bundle in his arms… a small bundle… something he held close to his chest, in a way he'd kept Judith to his chest… She froze in front of him, "Rick?" she breathed out.

Suddenly everything was in silence. She felt all eyes on her, but Amanda could only look at the bundle in his arms, wrapped in a dark cloth. Rick lifted his head up, and looked at her… Her eyes watered, "Rick…" No… No… No… Please, no.

Rick walked to her, his eyes on hers as hers still stayed fixated on the little bundle… "I—" Rick muttered out…

She shook her head, "Is it—is it—?" she stopped, couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't say it aloud.

His eyes stayed on her, too, in answer, then a cry came out from the bundle before he could say anything, and Amanda almost dropped on her knees.

# # #

"She—she was in the office complex—" Rick told her as Amanda put the baby into the cot—the baby Rick had made an orphan with his own hands, "Her name is Gracie."

Amanda hadn't stayed anything, just looked at the little baby girl. "Such a nice name…" she whispered, shaking her head, and Rick could hear tears in her tone even though he didn't see her face. He imagined how Amanda must be feeling now, understanding that her husband had left a baby girl an orphan like herself, taking her away from her family, he imagined how it must be Carl for now if the man had killed Rick instead… She turned back, and looked at him… "What happened, Rick?"

What happened, Rick? the question echoed in his mind over the static… _What happened, Rick?_

How he'd come to this?

"I found this office searching for the armory," he tried to explain, lowering himself on the low bed, and sat, "There was this man—attacked me before I checked the room. He was protecting it. Fighting—" he said, bowing his head as Amanda just looked at him in silence, watching him—listening his words. He propped on his wrists over his knees, and went on, "I thought it was the armory. I raked the wall with gunfire before, too. He dodged away, and I was low on ammo. We started fighting. Killed him. Then instead of guns, I found Gracie." He lifted his head, "Above her cot—above her cot was raked with bullets. Two inches above the most."

She gasped on a breath silently, her lips trembling with her chin as she fought with her tears. Shaking his head, Rick bowed it again. "I—I didn't ask for it, Amanda… I didn't."

The guilt was there, though, like always, heavy on his shoulders, heavy on his chest, squeezing him, pushing him down in the earth… He hadn't asked for this, but that was what had happened—almost killing a baby… Two inches above, and he would've killed one of the most innocent things left in this fucked up world…

"But that was what you wanted, huh?" Amanda asked back, her voice cold and dry as winter wind, "Not a pipe dream…as real as the world we live in."

His head snapped up at her, he held her look, "I can't change the world, Amanda," he told her back, "This's us, too." Even before the turn, death and war had been always them, too.

But she lunged forward, and knelt between his legs and took his face between her hands, "But this's _not_ you—" she said, shaking her head, "You're not a man who would kill a baby, accidental or not. That's not you, Rick," she told him, her moist eyes burning as fierce as her voice, "You're not the man who can change it, but who can make a difference." Their eyes locked, Rick stared at her, her hands still on his cheeks, "Baby, you don't have to change the world, you don't have to break any wheel, either. You're just a man, I know it. And it's okay." She paused, moving herself even closer to him, and touched his forehead with hers, "We don't need heroes who are lost in their own delusions. We need people like you…people who can make a difference, a little difference to make it a bit better. For all of us. For our children, and their own children."

Her words pausing, she took an inch back from him to look at him directly in the eyes, "So, make it happen, Rick," she demanded from him fiercely, "_That_'s you. You're not a hero. You're a builder. Like your father before you, like your grandfather… Just do what you always do, baby. Keep us together. We're not that far gone yet." Hearing the worlds made his last resolves crumbling before she said for the last, "We're still here."

Grabbing her at her upper arms, Rick pulled her back at himself and crashed his lips on hers.

Barely making any noises aside from low rasps and low moans as the babies slept in the cabin, Rick fucked her slowly, taking every moment, every second, every breadth with it, burying himself in her belief, basking in it. Their foreheads touching, their eyes glued, their bodies tangled, they watched each other in silence as they moved together with unspoken rhythm, no words needed anymore, they just had to share it, the moment, the feeling… they had to feel it.

She was still here, in his arms, under him, wrapped around him, looking at him as Rick moved over her in and out, two babies sleeping beside them, their babies in her belly. He was just a man, and it was enough. They weren't that far gone yet. They were still here.

# # #

Between his arms she lay sprawled out over his chest, her bump against his side, snuggling where she belonged, feeling spent but relieved, a similar kind of emancipation coursing through her whenever they experienced something like this, a sort of experience that built something between them, invisible bonds connecting them…binding them at each other. She hadn't been bounded, but she had felt nothing could've bound her tighter to him than his eyes on her, holding her captive as he moved slowly inside her.

Her orgasm hadn't as powerful as the ones he'd given her before when he'd been rocking her world upside down, fucking her brains out, but emotions… the connection, it was everything, everything she'd wanted, needed…two people being a whole.

She'd been so afraid when she'd understood what had happened, seeing the baby in his arms, and his confession later… _Two inches above the most..._ She shivered slightly again, pushing away the thoughts—what ifs… What if Rick had killed the little baby slept now in the cot with Judith… The thought was so awful to think, it almost brought tears to her eyes again. No. Rick wasn't that man. They weren't that far gone yet. They—Laura… she remembered then. God. She hadn't still told him about Laura.

In silence, his fingers were small circles over her shoulder blades, his fingertips gently touching at her skin, and she lifted her head up, "Rick—" but he cut her off.

"I'll talk to Cyndie tomorrow," he told her, his voice thoughtful as much as his expression, contemplative, "They're either with us or not, but it can't go on like this—" He paused for a second, "Then we'll find this Laura."

She closed her eyes for a second before she breathed out, "Um…we don't need to. I—I already talked to her tonight."

…And he stared at her, his eyebrows drawing in, his pensive look turning to wary, "Amanda—" he rasped at her, tilting his head down closer, "Don't tell me you did it!"

"I—I had to do something—" she said back, "I—I just couldn't." She paused, "Frankie put us in," she started, but Rick cut her off again.

"Us?"

"Beth came with me, too. Frankie took us in as Mark and others created a confusion at the other side of the outpost. We found Laura, talked. I—gave her the tape, and told her just listen to it, and make her people listen to it if she thinks it's worth it." She paused, rising her eyes at him again, "And she did, Rick. As we escaped, I heard you speaking through the speakers."

Rick let out a sigh, "Amanda, you—you're pregnant. It was too dangerous."

She nodded, "I know. But…I couldn't let it happen, Rick. I'm sorry. I thought it was worth it. I had to take the risk, for our children." She paused, still looking at him, and let out a breath, "I—believed—something would protect me, the babies."

His eyes were skeptical, but she shook her head, "I can't explain, Rick. I just…felt it."

He looked at her in silence, didn't say anything, and Amanda rested her head back at his chest. "I prayed for it." And her prayers had been answered. She lifted her eyes back at him, "Do you ever pray, Rick?"

He shook his head, "No."

"I used to pray every day when I was a child—pray to be somewhere else…someone else…" she said, swallowing through a lump in her throat, "then one day stopped, thought even if God exists, he doesn't give a shit…so why I should have?" She smiled, almost tied, understanding again how much she'd made herself forget, "I prayed the first time in long years after I broke up with you. I prayed you'd forgive me." Her voice broke as her voice faltered, "I—I was so afraid you wouldn't want me back."

Amanda felt his lips brushing over her hair, "Like it would've ever happened," he told her softly, then his hand found her chin and lifted her head up at him again. Despite his soft tone though the look he gave her was stern, "Amanda, I know how you feel…but promise me, you would never do such a thing again," he demanded, "It's dangerous. What if you got caught? What if something happened to you or to the babies?"

She nodded, "I know. I just—Rick, I feel the same, too, every time you go out there without me. We—have to deal with it. The woman—Laura…she accepted listening to me when I told her I was pregnant, when I told her I came to talk to her, risking everything. She understood what I meant it. I told her to find us at Hilltop if she wants to talk. I gave her an ID challenge. I have to be there if she comes." She paused again, "She will, Rick. She will come. She put it on the speakers."

Rick nodded back at her, "Okay," he slowly said, "I'll talk to Cyndie in the morning, then we'll go to Hilltop. Then we'll see."

Amanda flickered her eyes towards the cabin's narrow window, pale sunlight slowly breaking over the greyness. A new day had started.

She returned to Rick again, and leaning upward, she kissed him briefly on the lips, "We'll do it. Together." It was there, strongly coursing in her blood, she believed it. She believed in him, always him, the answer to her every prayer.

# # #

"Last night I almost killed a baby—" Rick told the women circled him a few hours later in the community hall, "Instead I only left a baby girl an orphan in this awful world." He swallowed through his tight throat, his voice scratching, "This's war. This's what happens if we go after revenge, and it'll only get worse if we follow this path." If they followed it, the next time, they might have buried a little baby at the shore. No. He raised his arm and pointed it at Cyndie, "That's not me. That's not you, Cyndie—" He turned to Amanda, pointing the baby girl in her arms, "We're not these people. We're not that far gone away," he repeated, in his mind both Hershel and Amanda talking to him, "Not yet."

Cyndie looked at him, her eyes thoughtful as if indecision, but she didn't speak aloud, "Last night Amanda found Laura. We might find a comprise. We expect her at Hilltop. I'm going to Hilltop. I'll talk to her. Come with me."

Gracie made a wheezing sound between Amanda's arms, and she hushed the baby, rocking her at her chest, and Cyndie's eyes moved to her, Amanda swinging the baby in her embrace, and like she'd assumed, the scene finally brought the younger woman, and Cyndie nodded.

"Okay, Rick Grimes, you won—" the woman said, "We'll come. But I still want your promise. There will be no peace with Simon."

Rick nodded, "He will answer the crimes he committed against you. I swear."

# # #

Bending down, Amanda kissed Judith's hair gently, giving her to Donna, the old lady who liked to take care of children with her husband when they were away. Judith made a whining protest, trembling her lips with a long _mommiee_, and she leaned down to kiss her again, "Mommy will come back, sweetheart," she told her baby angel, "Be a good girl, 'kay?" She pushed away her fringes over her forehead, "My smart girl…"

She then turned away to Gracie. The little baby girl must be around six months, even smaller than Judith—and she felt her heart tightening again looking at her. She bent down and kissed her forehead, too, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, little angel. We'll make everything right," she whispered at the baby girl, "I promise."

She turned, gulping down her tears, and started walking away. They—they had to find a family for the little girl. They couldn't leave her like this. She—she thought of taking care of the baby, but she didn't know how Rick would've felt—knowing what he'd done…and later, when Gracie had grown up, what they'd told her? Sorry, baby, your father had killed your real father looking for guns, sorry?

No. they—they couldn't do it. They had to find another way.

She found Rick in front of the community hall with Carl, waiting everyone got ready. "Did you give them?"

Amanda nodded. "Yes," she answered, looking around, "Are we ready?"

"We move in ten minutes," Rick said back, "Daryl left to gather Jadis and her people to Hilltop, too. Richard must've already fallen back to Hilltop. So yeah, we're ready."

Nodding, she held his hand, "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. We're doing it," he told her back, squeezing her hand, "Together."

# # #

Once they arrived to the old mansion, Rick sent scouts and forerunners in the woods to warn them against any approaching groups at the first thing as they knew even though Laura might decide not to come, Simon would still come for retaliation for the last night.

Over the wooden table that had left from the sacking of the town, the maps were laid out, the situation of their forces marked around the Hilltops. They were making perimeter checks non-stop, the watchtowers holding guards at the posts.

Amanda had put on a steel-and-copper breastplate the Kingdom's blacksmith had managed to work on from the metals they'd taken from the Junkyard. It was an odd thing, enlarging over her bump, protecting her belly, some parts of the metal colored orange, some parts Inox, but she was glad for the little addition of safety.

Rick had ordered then the armors had disturbed to the women first as the rest of the materials had been used to make barricades at the vehicles. Each group of their joined forces was wearing armbands in different colors, white for Alexandria, green for Hilltop, red for Kingdom, blue for Oceanside, and brown for Scavengers, as the Junkyard people liked to call themselves.

All things considered, they really looked like a Militia, of an Alliance. When this all was finished, Amanda realized they was going to need to sit down and made a pact, write down some ground rules, even finish their own constitution, they'd started but things had happened.

That was what they had to deal with, not with war. That what Rick had to deal with, building. He was a builder, a carpenter, like his father, building—making things with his hands, creating a better world for them. For their children. She tried to remember the famous quote of the founding fathers, _I must study with war and politics so my children and their children would study painting, poetry, music._

She was going to deal with politics, Rick was going to deal with war, so then their children would have painting, poetry, music. They could not break any wheel, they could not change the world, they had never had big ambitions.

The call they'd been waiting came before the sun set down in the west. Amanda had been sitting in the chair in front of the table in the empty study, where the radio was set over the maps. Rick was seated across her at the other side as he'd come back from his last perimeter check. Daryl had gone out to the woods to manage the scouts with Michonne and Scout. Beth was with them along with Maggie, Ethan, Richard, Jerry, Jadis, her own two right-hand, and with Cyndie and Beatrice.

All leaders of their coalition, waiting. At first, Amanda thought again Daryl was checking in, but the voice coming from the radio wasn't a male one, but a female, and it called her name out, "Amanda—?" she heard it over the static, "Do you copy?"

She snapped her head up at Rick and they shared a glance with each other as all looks turned to them, and then Amanda lunged forward, and took the radio. "Yes. You came."

There was a brief pause from the other side, and the woman said, "Yes. We did. I'm with Gavin—" the woman continued, "We want to talk. We saw your scouts. We need a stand down, a rendezvous point."

Amanda lifted her eyes again toward Rick.

Richard said, "He's the leader of our outpost—" the taciturn man said, "He—he always respected Ezekiel."

Rick nodded, and gestured at her, "Call for the ID challenge."

She brought the radio up. "We need to do ID challenge," she told to the woman, and stated, "Blueberry."

The ID challenges were the standard basics for any comprising situation to make certain if the person at the other end was under duress or not while being in contact. Amanda had told to the woman to answer as Montana if everything was okay, and Pearl if she was under duress.

Another brief pause, and the radio cracked again, and she said, "Montana."

Amanda looked at Rick again after it. "Tell her our people will stand down and we'll let them pass through. Their group will have to stand down as well. We'll escort them to Hilltop. They can only bring three guards."

Amanda shook her head, "Rick, they won't accept to come in—"

"You went to their outpost even with lesser odds," he said back sternly, "If we do this, they need to risk it, too, like we did."

Amanda let out a sigh, and pushed on the button, bringing the radio back to her lips, "We stand down. Our people will escort you in. You can bring three of your people with you with Gavin."

"No—" the reply came fast, "We meet in a neutral zone in the woods. We're not coming in."

"Laura, you need to—" Amanda told her back, "You need to trust us. Like I did. Please. Come in."

The next time radio cracked, instead of Laura, a male voice spoke, "This's Gavin speaking. I want to talk with Rick Grimes."

As her eyes found Rick's again, Rick raised his hand for the radio. Amanda handed it to him, "This's Rick Grimes," he called in.

"I heard your tape," the man said in return, and demanded, "They say you're a man of your words. You spoke of another path last night through our speakers, but we learned this morning you attacked at another outpost. Why?"

His jaw setting, Rick made a little swallow, and brought the radio up, "We all suffered at your hands, lost people. Women watched their husbands slaughtered. I watched my friend get beaten to death. My wife—my _pregnant_ wife got tortured. And you all watched it happen. A part of me still wants to kill _you_," he told the man plainly, without a flinch, "Want to kill _all_ of you, in the most horrible ways, and I'm not the only one. I attacked because even if there might be another path, I thought we would've never found it. So, I attacked. Then another thing happened. I attacked and almost killed a baby last night."

There was a sudden silence in the room, and Rick pushed at the talk button again, "I'm prepared to do what's necessary for my people, for my children, but I _don't_—I _don't_ want to do it. My only enemy—_only_—is the dead."

"Do you swear you'll give us safe return if we don't reach an…agreement?"

"If you choose to come, you'll be under the peace banner," Rick said back quickly, "I give you my word."

"Understood. We accept. Tell your man to stand down and find us," the man agreed as Amanda let out a breath that she wasn't aware she had been holding. The leader of the outpost started giving his coordinates, and Rick closed the connection saying they would send escorts in a few minutes.

# # #

Laura, Gavin, and their three men stood in the study less than a half hour.

"Gracie—" the muscled, tall man, Gavin, asked directly, "Is she with you?"

Rick nodded, "She's okay, but she's not here."

"We want her back," Laura said, turning to Amanda, "She belongs with us."

Rick frowned. He wasn't sure if he was okay with letting the baby with them, but they were also right. Gracie was one of them, and Rick—Rick had killed her father. He wished there had been a way to take everything back, but he was going to have to live with it, accept it, but he wasn't going to let her go before he knew the Sanctuary was a place for a baby.

"After we settle everything, you can take her back. Until then, she will stay with us," he answered, "She's safe. We'll keep her safe. I promise."

The brunette woman opened her mouth again, but Gavin stopped her raising his hand. "After we settle everything—" the man repeated his words, "What's your plan? What do you aim for? Your words at the tape were all good and nice, how do you do it?" he asked, narrowing his eyes, "You must've realized Simon would never agree with this."

Rick shook his head, "We're not talking with Simon," he shot back, "We're talking with _you_. Simon, Negan…they're all the same. Exploiting weakness and fear. We make no peace with them. Simon will answer the crimes he committed. My people need to see it. We don't look for revenge, but we want justice."

Gavin nodded in agreement, "We don't Simon, either, but the rest—what will happen then?" he demanded, "We'll bury our war axes and dance together in front of fire hand to hand?"

Rick gave the man a stern look, his jaw throbbing, "We draw lines—" He gestured the table with his head, walking closer to it, he tapped at Sanctuary with his forefinger, "You'll have to the northern side, but won't come down to south." He moved his finger over a river that cut the lands, "That's gonna be our border," he explained further, laying out the perimeters. Making borders hadn't worked out with Governor, but these people looked more reachable and reasonable than that psychopath. They couldn't do this with Simon, or Negan, or Governor, but they could do it with these people. They had to. Rick hadn't been lying when he'd spoken to them over them. He was prepared, but he didn't want to do it. They weren't that far gone yet. Not them, not these people.

"We won't cross it without permission," Rick went on. Even though they weren't that far gone, this was still going to be hard, keeping the peace was going to be as hard as maintain it, so it was the best option, everyone living its own land, "The upside belongs to you, the downside belongs to us." He then tapped at the east, towards D.C., "Here's free zone."

"And river?" Gavin asked.

"We can both use it—put up an outpost to manage the border at each bank."

"Hmm—" the big man nodded, "It might work."

Rick shook his bowed head over the map and his eyes finding the man, "It _has to_ work," he grated out at the man, stressing the words, "The only alternative we have is the last night."

The man's jaw squared, but he nodded curtly. "I know. Simon. How we deal with him?"

"We'll—" Rick started, but Amanda cut him in, walking to his side,

"No, we won't get involved. You deal with him, and his supporters. If we get involved, it might backfire us. Simon would try to use it to gather support, using us a figure to rally your people. We shouldn't give him any chance. This's your inside work. You need to take care of it."

Rick saw her point, but the man arched an eyebrow at her, "And then we give him then to you?"

"We want to see him dead," she said calmly, "It's not like we're gonna put him in front of a jury." She turned to Cyndie, "Are you okay with it?"

The young woman's expression stiffened, "I want to take his life with my own hands."

"Cyndie—" Amanda said, breathing out, closing her eyes for a second.

"Fine—" the younger woman snapped, "But I want his head."

She turned to the Saviors, "Fine, we'll try—" Gavin agreed, they all fell in a silence.

Rick coughed a little in the silence, "Well, then. We'll be in contact. How to fare. We need to act quick—" Rick went on, but his words got cut by a sudden crack from the radio, and he heard Daryl's familiar heavy accent.

"Rick—" his friend called in, the urgency clear and loud in his tone, "Rick, do you copy?"

Turning aside to the table, Rick grabbed the radio. He pushed on the talk button, "Talk to me," he rasped out at the walkie.

"We're falling back—" Daryl answered breathless, as if he was running, "The Saviors—they've come."

Their heads snapped at the group standing in the middle of the room, "Gavin's group retreating with us, too—" Daryl then said, "Simon—he's circling us."

* * *

**_So, we have Simon at Hilltop, finally for the finale battle. I'm gonna wrap the war with Saviors soon enough, as Rick starts building his better world, trying to keep things at balance between his people and Saviors, and Amanda enjoying her pregnancy :) _**

**_I don't know how further I'll keep this story go on now, because I feel like their story is coming to an end, there's still this helicopter group but character wise both Rick and Amanda established themselves pretty nicely, so I'm thinking wrapping this story and start a new one in earlier seasons. Amanda's character, her background etc is still gonna be the same. I want to explore how they might grow out if they met in different times in the canon._**

**_I have a couple of ideas, three ideas to be specific, and I put a poll in my profile to ask you which one of them you'd like to read more. Vote or tell me in a review, if you have a preference. I'm more inclined myself to one, but I don't know. I haven't decided yet. _**


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